


Before the War - The Ring

by KageKashu



Series: Time is a Test of Trouble (But Not a Remedy) [1]
Category: Lord of the Rings (Movies), Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, I just realized, I suspect this should be classified as humor, M/M, Shenanigans, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Surprise!Backstory, Surprise!OT3, Surprise?Bagginshield, What is "Lawks" anyway?, among other things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-11-27 23:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 54
Words: 55,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/667737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KageKashu/pseuds/KageKashu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merry and Pippin somehow end up in the past, and join a mutual cousin on a quest to liberate a certain dwarven kingdom... Pippin, unfortunately, has a big mouth, and although the journey is merry, not everything goes nearly as well as planned!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - After the Battle

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing. Really. :)
> 
> And if you wonder why I am not posting on my other works... I'm working from an iPod and my computer's broke. :( Everything else is on hiatus for the moment. 
> 
> Pairings, ratings, character involvement - subject to change.

On the plus side, Pippin would later tell Merry, during their arduous journey northward, he was pretty sure that he had managed to kill the Olog-hai. Subsequently being smashed into unconsciousness by the creature notwithstanding, he was mighty proud of himself. Merry, on the other hand, only seemed worried when he mentioned it, telling him that, as hardy as he'd proven himself to be, he was still tiny and delicate compared to other peoples. Pippin didn't have the heart to tell his cousin that his worry wasn't unfounded - ever since he came to, Pippin has been having a harder and harder time breathing. It felt like there were wet bubbles in his lungs. 

He had expected to awaken either still under the damned mixed-blooded troll, or in a healing tent of some kind - or, perhaps, not to have awoken at all. Instead, he came to in an empty field (which, after some confused observation, he concluded to be the same place that he had fallen, though strangely empty and pure), and after some wandering (coughing blood for a while, but once he got his breathing under control it didn't seem so bad) he found Merry. 

Poor Merry. 

He tried to pretend he was fine, Merry did, but the way he gripped his sword arm when he thought Pippin wasn't looking said everything he needed to know. 

In short, the two of them needed medicine, or a healer, or an elf... or, best of all, Aragorn, or Gandalf. And if Pippin were to be honest with himself, as he usually tried to be, he wasn't sure which of them was worse off. 

The wet rattle in Pippin's chest, and his difficulty breathing were one thing; Merry's pallor (similar to when Frodo had been stabbed with one of the Nazgul blades) and his listlessness were entirely another. So Pippin tried to keep him talking. It was hard to talk, but if it kept Merry awake and moving, Pippin would keep talking until his breath stopped. 

And since he was being so honest with himself, he could admit, internally anyway, that he was afraid that that might be sooner than he would wish it. In an effort to distract the both of them, he tried to force his older cousin to remember things - "Where are we now? Would it be better to head to Minas Tirith, Rohan or Fangorn?" 

He wasn't sure how they had come to the decision to head for Lothlorien. It seemed to him that it was further away than all of his other options, but, nevertheless, that was where they were going. It wasn't like it had been difficult to reach the Anduin - no more so than reaching anything would have been - and from there, at least, they knew exactly which direction to take. 

Rohan would have been quicker. 

* * *

_Hobbits,_ thought Pippin, _are made of sterner stuff than men and elves..._ The hardest part of the journey so far was crossing the Anduin. During the journey, he and Merry had become expert foragers, though he hadn't yet gotten the hang of building a fire without flint, even in his current shape, Merry managed it well enough. 

And when they had reached the Limlight, Pippin had waded into the water and showed Merry that he could catch fish with his bare hands - a trick he was rightfully proud of, even if he said so himself. 

For the first time since Gondor, he had a full stomach, and he marveled at how little he had required to make it that way. His mother probably wouldn't even recognize him were she to see him, and Merry! His poor cousin was wasting away! He was skin and bones! (So was Pippin, but he preferred worrying over Merry as opposed to himself.) 

Pippin trusted Merry, even addled as he was, to keep watch as he slept, even though his cousin had an unfortunate habit of pulling him close and crushing him. When it was Merry's turn to sleep, Pippin returned the favor, combing his fingers through blond curls, because Merry was clinging even as he slept, and Pippin wasn't about to start complaining. 

It wasn't long (respectively) after they crossed the Limlight, that they reached their destination. Quiet hobbit feet however, even weary ones, are by far quieter than a dwarf's breathing (they loved Gimli, they really did, but he was anything but quiet at most times). It took a disconcertingly long time for their presence to be acknowledged. 

It never occurred to Pippin that it was a hobbit's typical silence that played them ill at this point. Then again, the war aside, Pippin was still quite young. Merry recognized the look on Haldir's face for what it was - unspoken affront to how far they made it before they were spotted. He also noticed something else in Haldir's eyes that Pippin didn't see. 

The elf didn't recognize them.


	2. Lothlorien

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merry and Pippin spend some time recovering. And Lady Galadriel hadn't struck Merry as the mothering type.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Galadriel often seems poorly used in fanfiction... I do hope she's well used here.

The elves were suspicious. Not a single one recognized them; indeed, many seemed unsure of what they even were. In spite of this, they were still kind to the hobbits, and even though Merry couldn't sleep (not with Pippin lying there, dark rings under his eyes and a hint of blood on his lips), he still welcomed the attentions of the elvish healers. 

The real surprise was when Lady Galadriel came to see them. The one healer who spoke Westron told Merry that Pippin had been developing a severe case of pneumonia, and needed rest before anything else. So when Lady Galadriel came, Merry was the one awake. She smiled at him, in that strange, old, cold elvish way, called him "child of the west", and told him that when he and Pippin were well, they had much to discuss. 

This, Merry had no doubt of, though the whole situation struck him as blessed odd. Even Galadriel didn't seem to remember them, even if she treated them exactly the same as before. "Blessed odd," he muttered to himself, minutes after she left. 

There was _something_ peculiar about this, but Merry just couldn't put his finger on what it was. 

* * *

"He's breathing better," Merry told himself. The healers were insistent that he keep to his own bed after they caught him hugging his sleeping cousin. The healer that talked to him had chastised him - a solid hug is all well and good, apparently, so long as there's nothing wrong with the recipient's breathing. 

"You are lucky, young halfling, to have made it so far, in such poor health." The healer moved Pippin about, and Merry's cousin was as pliant as a fauntling in the elf's hands. "I am amazed at your resilience. He should awaken soon." 

That was the best news Merry had heard all day. "Do you think, when he does, I'll have the time for a nap before Lady Galadriel comes back?" His voice sounded petulant in his own ears, and he grimaced at it. It wasn't that he and Pippin didn't deserve the chance to be a little childish, after what they had gone through, ever since Pippin had helped Frodo move out of Bag End. 

Elrond had been right, after all; they were hardly more than children (he firmly ignored the fact that Elrond's words hadn't been meant for him at all; it was all about his little cousin). The elvish healer seemed confused. "You can sleep anytime you wish, little master." 

The elf was wrong though. If Merry went to sleep while Pippin was sleeping... He stopped the thought in its tracks. They were in Lothlorien. They were _safe_. Eventually he shook his head. Safe or not, sleeping now would be in violation of his cousin's trust. "Can I at least sit with him?" he asked, evading the elf's statement. 

He had asked before, and the healer had acceded last time... before kicking him out of his cousin's bed due to his too strong hugs. "I think not," said the elf. "Perhaps when he wakes, and is able to tell you when you are causing him discomfort." 

And that wasn't fair. Pippin hadn't complained at all, on their entire journey up the Anduin! A niggling guilt assaulted Merry, then. It would be just like Pippin to complain about something negligible, when there's a far worse problem that he should mention. 

It takes about an hour for Pippin to wake, and Merry is so relieved to see him smile. He decided not to say a word about Pippin's omission, just climbed into his cousin's bed and glared at the elf. 

Sleep came amazingly fast. 

* * *

Never let it be said that Pippin could not keep a secret. Unfortunately, even for Pippin's silence, one such as the Lady Galadriel was able to divine Truth. Merry certainly told her no less than the younger hobbit, but it was impossible to hide from her piercing, ice blue gaze. For a moment, he almost felt sympathy for Gimli and his unrelenting crush on the elf queen. 

Merry could easily admit that she was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen... but he only found her just shy of terrifying. Pippin, on the other hand, feared too little, it seemed, and where Merry cringed in silence, the little preening rooster _flirted_. It was amazing. (And he honestly didn't know how he meant that.) 

Of course, it was Pippin who asked the crucial question - the one Merry had been avoiding, even in his own head. What day was it? More accurately, what was the year? 

It was mid-April, which Merry could have guessed on the way there... More importantly, they were told that the year was 2941! In the Shire reckoning, that would be 1341 - the April of which was the very month, the very same year, as cousin Bilbo Baggins left the Shire for _his_ grand adventure - the very same adventure in which he found that blasted ring that had brought on all those troubles, that had cause all those deaths! 

He and Pippin couldn't hope to contain themselves at this. They both broke down, crying, and told her everything, and with a mothering instinct that they hadn't known she had, Lady Galadriel pulled the both of them to her bosom, and stroking their heads, told them it would be alright. 

Merry still didn't understand Gimli, but he was willing to put his foot down in her defense at every turn as well. 

And he and Pippin continued to cry.


	3. A Fated Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Comfort and healing, and Haldir makes a mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got an odd mix of movie and book canon going here... If I seem to be screwing things up too royally, please, let me know.

"Saruman the White, to whom the White Council has always been open... a traitor. This is distressing news indeed," Galadriel murmured over the hobbits' heads. "There is time yet. Mithrandir will hear of this soon, my young friends. Before you have despair, you must know: This is not the first time such things have happened, and it surely won't be the last. Take comfort here; rest and heal. The time will come soon enough that you won't be able to." 

With those words, she stroked their hair one last time then stood to leave. Her words were a strange sort of comfort, and neither Merry nor Pippin were sure of what to make of them. 

"What does she mean, 'Before you have despair'? I wasn't planning on despairing any time soon," Pippin mumbled once she was gone, snuffling slightly. "Do you know, most of the people we know aren't even born yet? Our parents aren't even born yet! What does that mean for us?" 

"Da would be one year old," Merry replied, dropping his head to Pippin's shoulder. The bony joint was no elf breast, but he found it infinitely more comforting. "Mam should be five." 

A tiny huff that could have been a laugh escaped Pippin to be lost in Merry's messy curls. "And my da would be what, eight? And mam, she'd be born next year, I reckon. That wasn't my point." 

"Just what was your point then?" he asked irritably, pressing his face into Pippin's shoulder. His cousin gave no indication that he even noticed Merry's attempt to burrow into his shoulder. 

"I was just meanin', I don't see any reason for despairing. We've been in worse scrapes, further from home!" Pippin grew quiet, and Merry waited for him to draw the same conclusion that Merry had already reached. "No, it's hard to get further away from home than this, isn't it?" 

"That's what I was thinking," he agreed. "What are we going to do?" 

"I think we should talk to Gandalf, maybe see about destroying the ring sooner, if we can. Do you think Bilbo would be able to do it?" Pippin's shoulder softened under Merry's head. 

"I don't know. I don't even know if Frodo managed it," he replied in a rueful tone. "I wish we had some way of knowing." 

"You know what they say about wishes, Merry... If wishes were horses..." 

* * *

April had long passed into May before the hobbits were free of the ailments that had plagued their recent travels. Merry's arm was as strong as ever, and he looked less and less likely to fade away, wraithlike, and Pippin? Pippin was relearning what it felt like to be able to breathe unimpeded. With health, returned his mischievous nature. 

His mischievous side, his very Tookishness, had an unfortunate tendency to get him into trouble, and not even Merry was always willing to mitigate for him. 

The stinky honey hadn't been meant for Haldir, and... How horribly amazing was it, the shear height the marchwarden could lift him to! Pippin was gasping (more in fear, than anything else) before the elf gave him the first solid shake. The second shake, harder than the first, without even a moment to prepare for it, had his teeth clacking together painfully. By the fourth shake, he had them clenched shut, and his eyes as well, but shortly found that he couldn't breathe from the force of the continued motion. 

When he finally stilled, his head and neck ached, and his eyes were still pinched shut, a painful wheeze escaping his throat. _This!_ he thought. _Merry would have tried to stop him from doing this!_

When Pippin opened his eyes to scan the area, however, Merry was nowhere in sight. He kept his teeth clenched. Aragorn had told them about what had happened to Haldir; Pippin had been trying to avoid the marchwarden because of it. Of all the elves to have such an awful run in with... 

Through his teeth, a faint whimper slipped. His eyes winced shut again, and he grit his teeth together so hard he could almost hear them cracking. No longer looking, he missed the regretful expression that flashed momentarily across the elf's face. 

He didn't miss the clench and unclench of fingers in the front of his tunic, though. Preparing to be shaken again, he tensed. 

The momentary regret resurfaced on Haldir's face tenfold, soon replaced with a look of horror. Elves were as prone to gossip as any other people, and as such, most of the elves in Lothlorien _knew_ that these halflings had already been through far too much for Haldir to allow his temper to get away from him like this. 

The halfling's resilience (proven by the fact that he was already getting his clever little hands into trouble) was no excuse. It only meant that Haldir probably didn't do too much damage. Physically. The fear on the little one's face when he was first lifted from the ground should have stopped him. 

Gently settling the creature back onto the ground, he made his retreat. He would ask for punishment befitting the crime. It was the least he could do. 

Oddly, it didn't occur to him to just apologize. Looking back, much later, Haldir would find himself wishing that he had taken that simple step, rather than the course he set out for himself. 

Pippin, on the other hand, stood still, in the exact spot he was set, for several minutes, before opening his eyes again. Haldir was gone, and he was standing alone in the middle of the flet. 

_Merry,_ he thought sadly, _would have interfered._


	4. To Beorn's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haldir takes the hobbits north, to Beorn's, for a special meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know. Just tell me how bad it goes. :D

Haldir would think that the little ones were unquestionably paranoid if he hadn't caught a glimpse of the scars across the thinner one's back. The halfling had been subjected to a whip, likely more than once, a cruel one at that. "Orcs," one elf had whispered knowingly; "Uruk-hai," the halfling had corrected, showing that he had far better hearing than most mortals. 

"Uruk-hai"... The very name sounded obscene. But it wasn't the name of the "Uruk-hai" that made him think the two small beings were paranoid. No, it was the way they slept. 

Whether or not Haldir was already keeping watch for them, on their continued journey north (Haldir's punishment, given by Galadriel herself), one or the other was always awake. Merry, whose solemn grey eyes belied the moniker, would often stare at him as his younger friend (they were family, Haldir suspected, but wasn't sure how - they did not share a name as was often custom with mortals) slept; or, if it was Pippin who was wakeful, he would lie quiescent in Merry's chokingly tight grasp, staring at the stars, or the fire (never at Haldir, though). 

Neither of them seemed to trust Haldir to watch over their sleep. Indeed, Merry's gaze seemed reproachful more often than not. 

A more amusing side of their paranoia had shown when they packed camp one morning. Haldir might not have noticed if he hadn't been watching Pippin's clever little hands. The halfling made it look as though the move was unintentional - as he squirreled away extra packets of lembas on his person. Merry, now that Haldir was watching more closely, was doing the same thing... and the two were giggling over it. 

Catching Haldir's eye, Merry shrugged. "Saved our lives before. Why not do it again?" 

"I still can't believe he thought we stopped for elevensies in the middle of a battle," Pippin giggled, and not for the first time, Haldir wondered who he was talking about. 

* * *

"I can honestly say, I have never seen a flower so big! Look, Merry, it's bigger than the elf's head!" 

Haldir sighed. Certainly the halflings were growing on him, and yes, the flower really was that big... But that didn't mean that some of the things that came out of Pippin's mouth didn't grate him so very wrongly. _'Bigger than the elf's head', indeed, young master halfling._

Then Pippin let out a great, startled yell as a bee, as big as one of his hands (or several of Haldir's fingers) came buzzing around the flower. Merry had whipped out that Gondolian blade of his before he even saw what Pippin was yelling for. When he saw the bee, busily pollinating the large flower, he nearly dropped the knife and began giggling uncontrollably. 

"Not funny," Pippin muttered archly. With one last sidelong glance, he continued down the path, as dignified as can be. After several steps, he paused. "What if we're too early?" he asked, then with a certain amount of horror,"What if we're too late?" 

* * *

As it turned out, they weren't late at all, and were only a little bit early. For what, Haldir didn't yet know, but when he saw Mithrandir, winding his way to the door, he suspected that that would be his answer. 

There was another halfling with him, and he had solemn eyes, like Merry, and a similarly solid build, though his hair was many shades darker, and his eyes were a pleasantly dark shade of brown. He was "Mr. Baggins", and Mithrandir called him a "hobbit", a word that Haldir had heard the two under his care mention once or twice in passing. 

Beorn, the great bear man, only seemed interested in getting a good story, so Haldir and his little charges stayed mostly out of sight until the telling was done and there were thirteen dwarves (dwarves!) in addition to the wizard and the halfling. 

Merry and Pippin, though they had listened patiently (obviously enjoying the story nearly as much as their host), were starting to get restless, and Haldir feared that at any moment one might slip away from his grip on their shoulders (especially Pippin, who was all but vibrating). 

Beorn gave a great bellowing laugh, and said, "What a host am I, to say I haven't been expecting you? Come, refresh yourselves! You are not my only guests at the moment! Come little ones, the one you wished to see has arrived!" 

Both were off like a shot, crying "Gandalf! It's so good to see you! Gandalf!" 

Mithrandir, for his part, looked stunned (a memory Haldir planned on savoring for eternity, it was such a rare expression for the Grey Pilgrim). "Hobbits?" he cried. "Here? However did you get here, my young friends?" 

The halflings stilled, turning to each other frantically and began talking over each other in that way that only siblings usually do. "But shouldn't we-I don't know about you, but-Do you really think-What if its a bad idea?-You've seen bad-How do we even-Lawks, but I-If anyone should know-Its Gandalf, so of course he should-" and so on. Haldir could only occasionally understand a distinct phrase between the two of them. They seemed split on a key point - Should they or shouldn't they? 

The other halfling sat off to the side during this, just watching. He was older than the other two, significantly so. He was obviously weary, but carried it with a mature "everything in its own time" air. It was he who was the one to put his foot down. "What in the name of all that is decent are you two yammering about?" He didn't sound angry, just mildly exasperated, with a touch of amusement. 

"Gandalf," said Pippin, glancing at Merry again, "is the one who should be hearing this..." 

"And cousin Bilbo," interjected Merry. 

"Maybe cousin Bilbo," ceded Pippin. 

"What about the dwarves?" asked Merry, looking at the entire lot of them. Haldir didn't think that anything important should be discussed in front of dwarves, but he had his orders. The halflings were to be given a choice in who they spoke to. 

"I don't know what it would change in the long run," admitted Pippin. "They've proven to be nearly impervious to it. So I don't see as it would hurt if we talked in front of them. And Mr. Beorn, of course. I don't know about you, but it would be rude, wouldn't it, to ask you to go?" 

"Pip, you're babbling." 

"Mostly we need to talk to Gandalf though. It would be better if it was _just_ Gandalf at this point." No one moved. Pippin gnawed on his lip. "It can wait then." And much to everyone's distress (even Haldir's, though he likely wouldn't admit it), he turned and walked off, Merry trailing behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haldir, due to guilt, I think, is trying not to be mean here. :)


	5. A Story Unheard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out of earshot, the young hobbits tell Gandalf their story... And Bilbo has sharp ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't even tell how long these are before I post... Damn you iPod!

Thorin watched as the two younger hobbits stared and stared at his burglar. Bilbo didn't seem put off by the behavior, but Thorin thought it downright rude... and then there was the elf. An elf had brought them here, and to what purpose? Was it a subtle way to steal away _his_ hobbit? 

The pair were like a softer, sweeter Fili and Kili, he noted, watching them. They had that subtle communication down, like twins, although after a short time, he found that they were first cousins; the younger's father was the elder's mother's brother (their words). And the age gap between them was greater than that of Thorin's nephews. Their relative age taken into consideration, it was downright strange. 

On that note, their age had caused a fit of righteous indignation (at least, that of the younger had - twenty-nine was exceedingly young by dwarvish standards) in the wizard, and Thorin still wasn't sure how it had come up. The wizard wasn't the only one indignant over Pippin's age, either. Bilbo had snapped out something like "should be home with his mother!" at finding out that little bit of information. 

The elf probably hasn't known. He was just as shocked as Gandalf. Thorin would have preferred to be able to place the blame squarely on the prissy weed-eater's shoulders. 

At the moment, the two were beyond his hearing, though he watched the way the younger one's mouth moved as he told his story to the wizard, while occasionally Merry (hobbits have such strange naming traditions!) interjected. 

More fascinating than the hobbits, was the expression on Gandalf's face. At odd moments, Bilbo would throw a similar look in their direction, proving that his ears were far keener than Thorin's. Eventually, fed up, Bilbo stood and stalked over to the trio and, pulling something from his pocket, threw it to the floor. "If its really what you say it is, I should want nothing to do with it!" 

Two pairs of hobbit eyes, one grey, one green, stared up at him with identical expressions of shock. They stayed that way until a single dwarf's hand reached for the golden ring that had rolled away from where it had fallen. 

Two identical swords, the same size as Bilbo's elvish dagger, were touching Nori's throat, and the dwarf's hand was still inches away from the ring. They were _fast_. "No one touches that but cousin Bilbo," said Pippin, a dangerous look in those green eyes. "Anyone else it would overwhelm. Do not touch it, Master Dwarf. Please, instead, back away." 

"Aye. Take your hand back, Master Dwarf," agreed Merry. "Cousin Bilbo, come take your ring." 

With a confused shuffle, Bilbo did as asked. "I can't deny it's useful," he said, slipping the ring back into his waistcoat pocket. "But I don't like the idea of keeping something so evil on me." 

"Don't worry, Cousin," said Merry, grinning. 

"You're _amazing_ , Bilbo!" cheered Pippin, laughing. "I think Frodo wouldn't even have thought to do that!" 

"Not that that was a good thing!" said Merry, still smiling widely. 

"No, but these days it's easier to get to the volcano, right?" asked Pippin. 

"But it's important for the thing with the dragon," Merry replied, shaking his head, his grin fading slightly. "Something has to be done about the dragon..." 

"What do you know of the dragon?" Thorin growled, and their stares were focused on him. 

They fell into their frantic whispering again. "But what should we tell them?!" seemed to be a major focal point. Again. 

"What is there to tell?" he asked. 

It was Pippin who spoke, though it took a good long moment for him to say anything coherent. "It's a messy business," he said, "knowing even a little of the future. If I tell you what's to the left, you may go right, and then, maybe, everyone will die instead of just..." He continued mumbling, even with his cousin's hand clapped over his mouth. 

"I think there's a reason foresight isn't common," murmured Merry. "It would be interesting, in an abstract sort of way, to note all the things that will happen now that we're here, anyway, without us telling you that you're to die before you're crowned King Under the..." This time it was Pippin's hand clasped over Merry's mouth, as the younger hobbit scowled. 

"So maybe," he said, still frowning (at Thorin, not his cousin), "we should find a way for them to survive? You should have just let me say it. I was going to be way more diplomatic than you." 

* * *

The line of Durin doesn't survive the year. Other than Dis, that is, and she wasn't likely to bear more children. Fili and Kili take the words well. "Now that we know, it's less likely to happen, now, isn't it?" 

Thorin doesn't. To think that he could so fall to gold lust as to allow his kin, his heirs, to die like that. No one can get him to speak for the rest of the evening. 

* * *

After an evening meal, Haldir watched the halflings bed down - right next to Mithrandir, who, as much as he tried, couldn't convince them to let him go. What shocks Haldir is that they both, at the same time, drop off to sleep, one on either side of the wizard.


	6. Honey and Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili is curious, Pippin is messy and Merry proves that his time among soldiers was put to good use...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one amuses me so much. Sooo much. :)

Erebor, it was decided, was important enough not to put off, and Haldir would be coming along with them. Fili wasn't so sure about the elf, but the hobbits were comfortable enough with him. He had a bearing similar to the more serious of the elves he had met before, but Fili couldn't say that he seemed _bad_. He was just an elf, as far as Fili could tell. Thorin wasn't pleased to see an elf joining them but "The elves of Lothlorien have little interest in gold and jewels. I am here to fulfill a penance with the halflings. If they believe that your reclamation of Erebor is important, then it must be important enough." 

Fili was more interested at the moment in something else. With his uncle resting, and his brother still looking sleepy enough not to require his attention any time soon, he was free to corner one of the hobbits and question him. Firstly, he wanted to know about those beautiful blades they had been brandishing earlier. 

Pippin proved easy to back into the wall. Although the hobbit moved easily, almost fluidly, relaxed as he flattened against the wall, he had a wariness in his eyes that belied his cheerful manner. "Of what make is that knife of yours, Swiftblade?" 

The hobbit mouthed the moniker Fili had lain on him, arching an eyebrow over those striking green eyes of his. "Númenórean," he replied, the strange syllables falling easily from his lips. "Dúnedain. Gondolian. Westernesse." A slight smirk crossed those (distracting, soft looking) lips as even further strange words escaped. "It came from the Barrow Downs in the Old Forest to the east of Buckland in the Shire." 

Bilbo surprised Fili by suddenly asking, "You've gone into the Old Forest?" The older hobbit looked scandalized. "But you're a Took! I can understand Merry, as a Brandybuck, but Tooks usually have more sense!" 

"It wasn't my idea," Pippin protested, stepping away from the wall and into Fili's personal space. "Merry's the one who knew the Old Forest! I was afraid, rightfully, but between certain death and probable death, I'll choose probable death every time!" His eyes were bright and earnest, though he seemed amused at the idea of scandalizing the slightly stodgy (after all Bilbo had gone through, too) hobbit. "Funny, I don't think it would be so scary, any more..." 

At this point, Merry, who Fili had witnessed sneaking carefully toward his younger cousin, wrapped his arms around Pippin, saying "Until Old Man Willow eats you again!" 

Pippin had stiffened initially, but then a look of staunch irritation crossed his face and he reached back and grabbed a fistful of Merry's thick, curly, blond hair. "As I recall," he grunted, pulling, "he ate you too!" Stilling for a moment, he frowned, giving the hair in his grip an experimental tug. "What did you do to your hair?" 

"Me?" asked Merry. "What did you do to yours? It has bypassed thick and curly, and gone straight for insane!" Fili had to agree. Both Pippin and Merry had heads of hair that put Bilbo's curls to shame and Bilbo had a pretty good head of hair on him. 

"Ha! You should look at yourself!" Pippin cried. Then Fili witnessed the oddest tussle he had ever seen. It was childish in a way that risked no actual hurt for either party - until the two fell out the nearby window. 

And off went Haldir, to the rescue. 

* * *

"What is Old Man Willow?" asked Haldir, later, while everyone tucked into an early lunch. Fili and Kili perked up curiously, having been wondering the same. 

"A tree," answered Merry around a mouthful of honey cake. 

"A Huorn, I think," said Pippin, in a similar manner. He paused chewing to wipe the honey off of his chin, then licked its stickiness from his fingers. "You know, with all the knowledge gathered since then, that's what I think it was. Tom Bombadil never was clear on it." 

"That sounds about right," Merry agreed. "Lawks, you're messy," he added, eying Pippin sidelong. He patted the table in search of a napkin, which he dipped in water. Grabbing Pippin's ear, he held his cousin still to scrub away the honey that had been missed with the first swipe of fingers. 

"You know, some day you'll make some lass a very lovely wife," Pippin said wryly, trying halfheartedly to escape Merry's grip. 

"I'm sure she'll be a real 'bring home the bacon' type," Merry agreed, not bothering to take offense. "So I can cook it for our precocious fauntlings." 

The napkin was returned to the table, and all the sticky honey was gone from Pippin's face. Fili was disappointed for a moment, then Kili asked, "What are barrows?" 

Fili snorted. "A tomb," he replied. Thinking on why Kili might ask that, his eyebrows furrowed, confused. "You found those in a tomb? What were you doing?" 

"Being eaten," Pippin answered, grinning faintly around another bite of cake. Merry managed a look of disgust at the honey that was back on Pippin's chin, although this time it managed to get high on his cheeks as well. 

"How do you do that?" Merry asked, amazed and offended. 

"Talent, my friend, pure talent," grinned Pippin, knowing full well what Merry was on about. "Good food is meant to be worn, as well as eaten." 

"Until you're five, maybe. Then they start yelling at you for it." Merry put the napkin to Pippin's face again. Since he didn't grab his cousin first, Pippin did his best to turn away. 

"It's a lost cause, Merry, until we're done, anyway," he grunted. "You keep at this, and I'll take it as a challenge. I'll get it in my hair!" 

Kili muttered into Fili's ear, "Weirdest threat ever." Fili silently agreed. 

"You know, Pim swears by this honey based soap she found last year..." 

"I bet Beorn keeps honey based soap..." 

The two hobbits chattered amiably once Merry gave up on wiping Pippin's face. Mostly, they seemed to be talking about soaps, and honey, and every feasible mix of the two. It gave Fili a bit of a headache, and it seemed that they had completely lost track of the previous conversation. "How do you get eaten by a tomb?" he sighed, trying not to feel old, like his uncle. He was far too young to be that serious. 

They paused, staring at each other. As usual, Pippin was the one to reply. "They were haunted," he said. "We lost most of our stuff there, and ended up in rotted corpse clothes. Tom went off and found us something else to wear, though." 

"Lost my favorite waistcoat," Merry complained. 

"Almost lost my scarf," Pippin smiled. 

"Wanker," muttered Merry. 

"Merry!" exclaimed a voice from down the table; Bilbo seemed offended by the current turn of the conversation. 

"Well, he is!" Merry defended. "He's hardly out of puberty! You wouldn't believe some of the things I've walked in on!" 

"Merry!" Pippin cried in turn, as the various dwarves still remaining at the table laughed. "Remember that I've done my level best to follow you around for the entirety of my life, so I know what you've gotten up to as well!" 

"And one would think you'd learn from my many and varied mistakes!" 

"But I have. For one, I'm aware that while the Proudfoot daughters are quite lovely and merry, their brothers have excellent aim!" Pippin's exclamation got another rumble of laughter from the dwarves. 

In an aside to Bofur, which Merry and Pippin might not have been meant to hear, Bilbo said, "Good to know that some things don't change." 

More laughter accompanied the younger hobbits' horrified exclamations. 

* * *

Fili wouldn't admit it, but what he was doing was approaching distasteful. It had already proven to be easier to stalk after Pippin as opposed to Merry (he had learned before the incident with the trolls that following Bilbo around was just impossible - the older hobbit caught him every single time he tried). 

Dwarves were not tree climbers, and he hadn't thought that hobbits were, but Pippin had tackled the tree like it was a stairway (little did he know, but hobbits aren't all that fond of stairs, either, and their homes all tend to be of a single level), and was working his way out along a branch within minutes. _What is he doing?_ Fili wondered, watching him. 

What the youngest hobbit was doing became quickly apparent; there was a beehive situated just beneath his branch, and he hooked his knees around the branch and dropped to hang upside down over the hive. 

Clever fingers made an opening on the outside of the hive, and the bees, though curious, mostly left the hobbit alone. Fili could see where this was heading. Pippin was obviously after fresh honey - as if there wasn't enough of it inside. He snorted, bemused, and the hobbit's eyes flew wide as he lost his hold on the branch... 

And fell. 

* * *

Haldir had been taking a nap. Beorn's home was comfortable and safe for his charges... or so he had thought. The sound of high pitched yelps disabused him of that notion. When he found the source, he saw the blond dwarf trying to pull Pippin out of a ruined beehive. 

He stopped and stared. The halfling was covered in honey and debris (and what was with Pippin's obsession with honey, anyway?), and had stings already visibly swelling on his face. So did the dwarf. Haldir could see where this was going. 

He would end up covered in honey again. Heaving a sigh, he extracted the halfling from the hive, much to Pippin's very vocal eternal gratitude. The dwarf seemed appropriately grateful as well. 

"You seem to have a thing for honey," Haldir muttered. 

Pippin shrugged, wiggling his feet toward the ground. "It tastes good. I've been stung." There were only a couple of stings Haldir could see. 

"You don't seem to be fussing over it," Haldir commented, eying the dwarf, who didn't seem nearly as complacent. 

"You get used to it," Pippin shrugged again, wiggling his feet a little more insistently. "You can put me down now. Really. I won't intentionally get more honey on you." 

"How convincing," Haldir said dryly. He marveled internally at a hobbit's ability to find trouble. This Old Forest of theirs seemed like a death trap, now that he thought about it, if even half of the halflings were anything like Pippin.


	7. Messes and Mead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a mess to clean, and observations to be made... and mead, with which to party... a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pippin is a tease. Seriously.

The thing that got Fili, as they walked back to the house, was not the mess Pippin had made of himself. No, it's the fact that, as they walked, the hobbit meticulously licked and sucked away the honey that covered his hands. Long broad licks that covered the breadth of his palm, and obscene sounding suckles to each and every finger; occasionally Pippin even used his teeth, chewing gently at the soft skin on the backs of his hands. He looked so pleased with himself. 

Fili really should look away, but he found it nearly impossible to do so. The flush rising in his cheeks could be mistaken as inflammation, he hoped, and it wasn't like anyone could _see_ the way his skin tightened. If Kili had been there, he would have seen the quickening of his breath and the widening of his eyes, and known exactly what Fili was thinking of. _Good thing he's not here then,_ Fili thought, licking his lips with a suddenly dry tongue. 

He could taste honey, and that wasn't helping matters. Especially once Pippin started working on his wrists; the hobbit's mouth wrapped further around the joint than Fili would have thought possible. A hand came down on Fili's shoulder, and he looked up to see a clear warning on Haldir's face. The elf read him with ease. 

He fought back the wave of indignation that rose in him. The elf was there protecting the hobbits, after all. Actually, that almost made it worse; it was as if the elf expected him to _hurt_ Pippin. Honestly, _hurting_ was just about the farthest thing from his mind. 

They reached the porch before he could worry more on the subject, and there they met a trio just as dirty as they. Kili looked as though he had dropped into an algae ridden pond in full armor, and Merry looked nearly as bad. Ori's arms were wet, and a little muddy, as were his boots, but otherwise, he was nearly clean. "What happened to you?" asked Fili, a grin starting across his face. 

Kili mirrored him. "There was this huge toad," he began, raising his arms to demonstrate, "as big as my torso! I was going to bring it back to show everyone, but the log fell in!" 

"He couldn't swim in his armor," Merry pointed out, eying Fili and Pippin closely, but hardly sparing a glance for Haldir. 

"Merry pulled him out," Ori murmured, "but he needed help at the last, and I was there." 

"What happened to you?" asked Kili, still grinning. 

"Someone thought it would be a good idea getting into a beehive. Then he fell in." Fili rolled his eyes. Pippin was odd and impulsive, and Fili pointedly didn't look at him as he swiped some of the honey off of his face and stuck his fingers in his mouth. 

"Wouldn't've fallen if you hadn't startled me," the hobbit mumbled around his fingers. "On the plus side, at least I can eat my accident." 

"Very funny, Pip." Merry was smiling, though, as they turned to the door and saw Bilbo staring at them, lips pursed. 

An oddly gleeful look crossed the older hobbit's face. "You all need a bath." 

* * *

Dwarves, elves and hobbits were all very different looking when naked, Merry observed. Dwarves were thick in the torso, and so hairy as to look nearly furry. Elves... were long of build and slight, and other than the hair on Haldir's head, he was nearly hairless (not completely; there seemed to be a little fuzz in areas it wasn't polite to stare at). Hobbits bodies looked more sensible to his eye. He and Pippin were narrow shouldered, a little soft and a bit leaner than perhaps they should be, but their body hair was sensible, mostly around their feet and up their legs and covering their more delicate parts. Dwarves, he suspected, could run around in the snow with just their boots and be warm enough. Haldir, on the other hand, looked just about to freeze without his pants. 

He shared his observation about dwarves with Pippin and was rewarded with a high giggle. "But they must keep their boots," Pippin said, "for their delicate little tootsies." 

They had a laugh at that, even Bilbo, who bopped them each on the head for being rude. Even a couple of months traveling with the dwarves hadn't managed to curtail his attempts at politeness. The dwarves, and the elf, though Haldir was more subtle about it, wanted to know what was so funny. 

"For a hobbit," Bilbo said, sniffing at being the one to explain, "being called delicate of foot is a grave insult." 

"Seems like everyone but hobbits have tender feet," Pippin muttered. "I mean, that's why they all wear shoes, right?" 

Bilbo sighed, and Merry took pity on him. "It's still an insult. Even if its true." He grinned and ducked the halfhearted swat Bilbo sent his way. He focused on washing. The pond had been mucky, and there was still green in his hair. Pippin's mess had certainly looked more attractive (mostly taking Fili's reaction into account) until dirt had started to stick to them. 

Merry wasn't sure of what to make of that attraction. He had certainly seen stranger (not the least of which was his and Pippin's mutual crush on Boromir, who was just about the biggest person they had both known), but it wasn't like he knew Fili, really. He didn't even feature strongly in Bilbo's stories - partly, Merry thought, because it pained his cousin to talk about friends who had died. He supposed he would leave Fili to it, and if Pippin showed a return interest, he could give the prince the shovel talk. 

Satisfied with his conclusion, he set to scrubbing his feet. 

* * *

Later in the evening, one of Beorn's strange animals brought out mead with the food, and it had led to bets being made as to who could out drink who. All the dwarves suspected that they could out drink the hobbits, and the hobbits... Well, of them, Bilbo had only once drank side by side with someone who wasn't a hobbit, and though the man (a ranger) had joined the Fall March, Bilbo told them, he had only managed about three miles of the game. "I made it all the way to Bree, that year," he said proudly, drinking his mug of mead down at a sedate pace. 

"The Fall March?" asked Nori, looking interested. Gandalf would have been interested too, had he been present, as it was a tradition that had begun somewhat after his last time in the Shire. 

"You Trick or Treat from house to house, with a specific destination in mind, and you get food or more alcohol at each house," Bilbo said. "Bree is quite a ways, so it's my usual destination. Hardly ever make it there though. Why, last year, I woke up in... Well, you needn't hear that tale." 

No matter how much they pried, they couldn't convince him to say more on the subject, other that it was a harvest tradition started nearly thirty years prior (just after the Fell Winter), and it was a days long celebration of "having plenty". 

After a couple mugs apiece, Merry and Pippin began to try and teach the dogs to dance a jig, "even though it would be better with a cow", and Pippin had found a fiddle, with which he played a rousingly energetic melody which had half of the troupe dancing wildly while Merry bounced and clapped, occasionally singing nonsense words to go with the music. 

Ori wilted first, soon followed by Kili. Oin and Balin went next, pleading age. After that, Bombur wearied, then Dori, Nori and Gloin. Then Bilbo gave in and retired. Fili couldn't keep up much longer after that, and neither could Pippin. Then the elf went. After that Dwalin had no excuse to stay awake, and Bifur and Bofur soon followed after him. 

The last ones left were Merry, who felt that with Pippin sleeping, he couldn't, and Thorin, who hadn't been drinking as heavily as the others. "Truce?" asked Merry, with a flash of a smile. Thorin nodded agreement. "I still plan on telling everyone else that I outlasted them, you know." 

Thorin could hardly fault him that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Fall March is a little like a grown up version of Halloween, in a land where crime is almost unheard of. It's also completely made up, though it sounds like great fun...
> 
> Also, the thought of Pippin and Merry attempting to teach Beorn's animals to dance is a thought that has been haunting me since the start... :D


	8. Curiosity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili wonders, Haldir grows restless, and Pippin continues to embody trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we leave the territory of "gen". Sorry if that's what you preferred.

_Pippin would taste like honey,_ thought Fili, his head spinning from too much mead. _He still smells like it... Honey and mead, and I'm sure he would taste so good..._ He watched drowsily as Pippin dropped to a nearby pallet, looking a little bit pale, but otherwise just fine. The hobbit groaned as he stretched out fully on the straw filled bedding, and Fili watched interestedly. Soon those bright eyes blinked closed, and Fili heard soft little snores from him. 

He hadn't even realized that he closed his eyes when he heard a soft whimper that had his eyes opening to full wakefulness. Fili turned and observed the peaceful look on his brother's ugly (by dwarvish standards) mug. Kili had an odd, rapid snore going on, but he often did so when he imbibed a bit too much. So no, the sound hadn't been Kili. 

When he heard it again, he turned in the direction it had come from, and saw Merry's grey eyes gleaming at him in the half light. He was crouched down next to his cousin, apparently getting ready to settle down beside him. To Fili's observation, he murmured, "Just a nightmare." He smoothed Pippin's hair with his fingers and the younger hobbit quieted. "Nothing to worry about." 

Fili nodded and settled back down, but it took a long while for sleep to come back to him. 

* * *

For once, Haldir had no idea where his charges had gone, so he walked a path in Beorn's gardens, hoping to put an end to that mystery. As much as the stay was good for the halflings' health, Haldir had to admit that he would prefer them on the road. Their antics were less disturbing there. 

On the road, he was sure that the blond dwarf - Fili? Kili? - would have little time to try anything with his charge, too, so he was nearly as anxious to begin traveling again as Thorin Oakenshield. Pippin was much too young to be on the receiving end of such lustful looks (though Haldir was aware that what Pippin was doing at the time would have made Lord Celebron blush at the innuendo). 

His heart slammed painfully in his chest when a small hand suddenly wrapped around his ankle. He stood still and counted to ten, silently, before looking down to see a dirty face and cheerful green eyes. "Hi!" said the apparition. "There's foxes here," Pippin continued, indicating the hole he had come out of. "Merry's off exploring the other end, but I heard you and thought, 'Hey, I should say "Hi" to Haldir!' So I did." With a quick grin, he ducked away again. 

There was something about the halfling that just found every single exposed nerve that Haldir had and jabbed at them viciously. 

_I will be calm; I will not kill the one I wronged. I will be calm..._

* * *

If he had known the direction of Haldir's thoughts, Pippin may have been amused. Merry had pointed out to him, at some point before they had reached Beorn's, that Haldir had a "Pippin-shaped chink in his emotional armor". 

Amusing or no, Haldir really was the last person Pippin actually wanted to upset. He still couldn't figure out just what the marchwarden thought his crimes against Merry and Pippin were. Then again, he was sure that it was Haldir's problem, not his... unless it was Merry? If so, Pippin would give the elf a good and solid kick in the shins! 

Chuckling to himself, he rounded a tree and nearly tripped over Fili. "Oh, hey! Hi," he said, righting himself. The blond dwarf stood, leaning against the tree, his feet stuck out in an awkward position - the very reason Pippin had nearly tripped. 

The look on the dwarf's face had snapped from contemplative to surprise to an oddly hungry sort of curiosity that had Pippin standing still beneath his gaze. 

Normally (any more), Pippin doesn't stand within grabbing distance of people he doesn't know well. Normally. It seemed that with Fili (and before that, Haldir), Pippin had broken his little self imposed rule. He let out a squeaking sound when his back hit the tree that Fili had been leaning against. "What do you..." 

"I was curious," Fili admitted, leaning against him with a feral grin. 

"Curious?" Pippin asked nervously. 

He didn't get an answer, not with words, anyway. With one hand fitted against Pippin's jaw, thumb dragging his chin down, the dwarf slotted his mouth right over Pippin's. 

Fili kissed with a kind of straightforward determination that many a hobbit would envy, and it wasn't long before his tongue lapped insistently at Pippin's lips, begging silently for entrance. With a faint hitch to his breath, he relaxed against the intrusion, allowing his mouth to fall open. After all, Pippin was of the philosophy "If it feels good, why _not_ do it?" 

And really, the feeling of Fili's very warm tongue lapping into his mouth like that, just tasting? That was good. Combined with the unusually musky scent that he had to assume was "Fili: Clean", it was even better. Pippin let his eyes slip closed as he kissed back, wriggling so that he would be more comfortable in the long run. 

Fili pulled back slightly, gasping breathlessly against Pippin's slack mouth. He licked again before pulling back another inch or so. "I was right," he said, smiling as he caught his breath. "You taste like honey." His voice was deeper, thicker than it usually was, and that was good too. 

Pippin chuckled, noticing that his voice had a similar timbre to it. "I've been eating it all day; of course I taste like honey." He leaned forward, trying to recapture Fili's lips. 

Instead of allowing that, the dwarf tilted his head to lick at the corner of Pippin's mouth. "Just a moment more," he muttered gruffly. 

"Merry's going to kill you, you know," Pippin said conversationally. 

Fili laughed, "The elf acted like he would. I think that is more worrisome." 

Pippin shook his head. "Haldir might get upset, but Merry will bury you. I swear. He has this thing where he thinks I'm innocent. It would be funny, if it didn't... you know... include threatening people who try kissing me." 

"A wee hobbit with Gondolian steel," Fili chuckled. 

"Killed orcs with it," Pippin offered. "I killed a troll, not a normal troll, an Olog-hai, with mine. At least, I think I did." Sadly, all this talk of killing things, and Merry killing things, had diminished the pleasantness of the situation. "So what was that? Curiosity? Not that I've got anything against curiosity, but that wouldn't be a good defense with Merry." 

"Not just curiosity," Fili confirmed, "though, I do think you'll have to wait until I know exactly what it is before I can tell you." 

That sounded fair enough to Pippin, so he shrugged and wiggled his way free. "I enjoyed it, if that matters," he said before slipping away. The consternation on Fili's face might only be in his mind, but then again... 

It might not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, Pippin's a bit of a tease. :)


	9. Stories Shared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is much talk about the differences between hobbits and dwarves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, I was researching a bit for this chapter, and I'm still not happy with it... I also went back and fixed a couple things I mixed up somehow - the color of Bilbo's eyes, and the amount of time passed since the Fell Winter... which happened thirty years previous, not twenty. :)

Merry took one look at his cousin's pleased countenance and sighed. Pippin was flushed and grinning, and had a kind of redness around his chin that hobbits usually only get from kissing one of the Stoors. _Not,_ he thought irritably, _dwarves._ "Pippin, you foolish lad, don't you know anything about dwarves?" he sighed. That put a momentary damper on Pippin's obvious good cheer. 

"What do you know about them that I don't?" asked Pippin, still too cheery and... loose-limbed for Merry's liking. 

"They aren't the same as hobbits," he replied waspishly. "Especially in matters of the heart... Or body, as the case may be." A frustrated sound caught in Merry's throat at Pippin's distinctly unconcerned look. "They don't take someone to bed lightly," he said, trying to sound more like an adult than Pippin often had him acting. "If he kissed you, no matter how shortly he's known you, he'll be after more than a quick little tumble." 

Pippin was quiet as he sat down next to him. His cousin stretched out his feet until Merry could hear his ankles popping, and muttered under his breath, "Okay, so Gimli told you more than he told me." 

"Not my fault you're easily bored," Merry grunted. "Keep that in mind, Pip. Even if _you_ aren't serious, chances are, he will be." In spite of this, he was still going to threaten Fili and make sure that the blond dwarf understood that Pippin knew diddly about dwarves. 

* * *

By the evening meal, Gandalf had returned, so plans were made to leave the following morning. Ori, prompted by Fili and Kili, started asking, in that quiet way of his, questions about hobbit culture. At first, it seemed as though Gandalf was going to indulge them with answers (Bilbo flat out refused to answer some of the questions), then his mischievous eyes turned upon the newcomers. 

Merry gave in gracefully, and with a smile. "How about we trade? For each question about us, one of you tell us how it normally is with dwarves." 

Gandalf laughed, and for a moment, the dwarves seemed daunted. The youngest three were the only ones who were willing to brave Merry's condition, though the older ones milled about to listen to the answers. Kili was the first to voice an actual question, beginning by saying, "Traveling is common with dwarves, and some of us enjoy it quite a bit - though our desire to reclaim Erebor is so that our people will have a home again, I doubt we would stop traveling when we succeed. Hobbits don't seem to like traveling much, though..." He fidgeted for a moment and sighed. "Why?" 

Merry and Pippin glanced between themselves for a moment, then they turned to Bilbo. The older hobbit just smiled, shaking his head as if to say, "This is your mess to take care of." 

"Not all hobbits are the same," Pippin chirped when the silence had lasted too long. "They would have had to send me home in a sack to keep me from coming along!" 

"But you're a Took," Merry said, smiling indulgently. "Most hobbits would rather stay home, where they're comfortable, but give us a good reason, and we can walk for weeks on nothing but waybread and water." He was, of course, speaking from experience. "We may not look like much, and we may prefer a sedentary lifestyle, but in a pinch, we're tough as dwarves." Gimli, he recalled, had even said so. 

"Our turn," said Pippin, not about to let the questions be asked only by the other party. He met Merry's eyes as they both wondered what did they want to know about dwarves that they didn't already know. Merry grimaced at his younger cousin, startling him into laughter. 

"Since Pip insists," he began, then stopped frowning. He and Pippin eyes met again. Merry grinned as Pippin rolled his eyes in Fili's direction. He was pretty sure what that meant. "Other than Fili, I've never seen a blond dwarf." It wasn't a question, but it would suffice. 

"Father was from a northern nomadic tribe," said Kili, pointedly ignoring the looks his uncle and brother were giving him. "It's not a common trait, even there. Are all hobbits fair-haired?" 

"Nope," said Pippin. "That's all about the family lines. We Tooks and Brandybucks have a lot of Fallohide blood, which is where the fair complexion and hair comes from. Most of the other major families are Harfoots deep down, but the Brandybucks have a lot of Stoor blood, too." 

"And Bagginses?" asked Ori. 

"Well, most Bagginses are Harfoots - act like 'em too, but ol' Bilbo here is half a Took from his mother, so he's as much a Took as a Baggins." Pippin looked right proud of simplifying it enough for outsiders to understand. Thankfully he didn't fall into his habit of explaining how they were all related (to the nth degree) - not that it was a subject Merry didn't enjoy - it just wasn't what they were asking. 

The dwarves mostly digested that silently, with the exception of Gloin, who muttered for a bit about how Pippin could have explained better or further. Over Gloin's muttering, Fili asked, "Has there ever been actual battles in the Shire?" He didn't sound like he believed it was possible, but had chosen the question after much thought. 

"The Battle of Greenfields," Merry and Pippin said in unison. It was Pippin who continued, "It was two hundred years ago, about, in the South Farthing. There Bandobras Took..." He trailed off, mumbling into Merry's hand. 

"Routed an Orc invasion," Merry concluded. "That little bit about the invention of golf was just that - an invention, by a very good storyteller." He nodded to Gandalf, who looked rather pleased that that particular rumor had survived eighty more years. "Honestly, I don't think you need to tell us about dwarven wars, though. We've already heard quite a bit about them. Instead, oh, I don't know. A snack before bed?" 

They had their snack, and much later, when the fire was dying down, Pippin told Fili and Kili about one of his findings in the library of Gondor - "There were hobbits at the last battle at Fornost against the Witch-king of Angmar... Bowmen, if you'd believe it. That was a very long time ago, though." 

Merry was surprised, but didn't say so. Having seen real war made it seem so strange to him that any sensible hobbit would have gone to war had they no pressing need. "Must have been Fallohides," he muttered with a smile. When Pippin kicked him, he closed his eyes and pretended to go to sleep. 

Faintly, he heard Fili whisper, amused, "I thought you said he would kill me?" 

Pippin laughed. "He's probably plotting at this very moment." 

_Let them think that,_ Merry decided, shortly falling asleep for real. His last thought before he succumbed was _I'll talk to Fili alone tomorrow._


	10. A Morning Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merry talks to Fili, and everyone gets ready to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No research necessary! Haha!

Haldir watched. 

He watched Merry single out the blond dwarf (who he still wasn't sure was Fili or Kili) as everyone finished last minute preparations for their continued journey. Merry's things, scarce as they were, were already packed and nestled neatly against his cousin's pack. 

The fairer-haired halfling appeared to have business of some sort with the dwarf. If Haldir didn't move, he would be able to hear this business without so much as turning his head. 

It started with a whisper: "Fili, a word, if you would," and Merry led him to a place where interference was unlikely. "I'm warning you now," he said, grey eyes flashing in the gloomy corner he had chosen. "My little cousin knows little of dwarves, and we hobbits _are_ quite a bit different in these manners... It will be your own fault, if you get attached and he wants to go. He's young, and that's how we are until we settle down. What I'm saying is," here he pulled out that knife of his, subtle as can be, and was quiet until the dwarf noticed its presence tickling his ear (when he did, Haldir noted that he paled quite satisfyingly), "if he ever wants to go, lawks, but you'd better let him go, if you know what's good for you. Hobbits mayn't be much for fighting, but when it comes to protecting what we love, you won't find a fiercer foe." 

Fili's eyes were bright and wide and Haldir thought, he just might not need to threaten the dwarf as well. The elf smiled as he went to procure further dried fruits for their packs, knowing just how much the hobbits (of whom he was beginning to feel a bit possessive, perhaps, even the new one) could eat. 

* * *

Bilbo thought that it was a right fine idea, hiding extra provisions in their clothes, so he set about imitating his young cousins (from the future - he still couldn't get over that, no matter that Gandalf believed them), who obviously had more traveling experience than him. 

Thorin had watched them curiously, in between packing his own pack and giving orders to the other dwarves as to what they might be forgetting. "They certainly seem to do it better than you, Master Baggins," he said with a faint smile. Bilbo supposed that Thorin was teasing him, but he chose to be disconcertingly subtle about it. 

"And they spent a goodly long while on the road, didn't they?" he asked, smiling back, just as faintly. "A half a year, maybe. That's plenty of time to learn to do it right." He sniffed. "And I do believe that they had a bit of experience before, as hobbity as the experience may have been." 

They both turned to the sound of Pippin chirping about how glad he was that they were going to be moving again soon, and Thorin chuckled at Haldir's reply: "And thankful I am as well, young Master Peregrin, as you find far less trouble when you have no time on your hands with which to seek it!" 

"He doesn't sound like a proper hobbit," Thorin mused, grinning. 

"Yes, well, I suppose the entire world would forget us if we were all proper hobbits," said Bilbo, tightening one last strap on his pack and lifting it to settle it on a pony. 

Pippin, meanwhile, was still talking. "We had ponies, up to Bree, but we had to make do without them because of that squinty-eyed Southerner - think he was Uruk-hai, but we hadn't proof of that - he chased them all off, and we lost Bill, the other pony, outside Moria..." This caused those nearby to still, but he kept babbling as if no one was listening, "Poor Sam had to let him go, because he wouldn't follow us through the gate. Now that I think about it, his chances really were better with the wargs..." He hummed to himself as he prepared his pony, though he was only making minor adjustments really. "Are we all ready yet?" 

Bilbo wracked his brain for it, but the only mention he could remember about Moria was Balin's tale about the attempt to reclaim it. Merry and Pippin's Fellowship went through Orc-infested mines? _Their leader,_ he thought, _must have been irrevocably insane._

Even Gandalf seemed a little disturbed by this. "You didn't mention Moria in your previous tale, Master Took," the wizard chided. 

"It wasn't a pleasant memory, now was it, Merry?" said Pippin. "It was awful, and it was nicer to think of Lothlorien. Much nicer." 

"The Fellowship started breaking in Moria, and... There are still some things we don't know if we should tell. We found out some bad things there, and bad things happened. We would really rather not think about it, Master Gandalf." With that, Merry vaulted up into his saddle like a professional, and laughing, Pippin did the same. 

Surrounded as he was by people taller than him, Bilbo hadn't really noticed before, but... for hobbits, those two were awfully tall. Why, he wouldn't be surprised if they could manage a horse! They were certainly equally as tall, if not in some cases taller, than the shortest of the dwarves (of whom Bilbo was nearly of a height with). _Don't think about it,_ he told himself and gratefully accepted Bofur's assistance in clambering onto his own pony. 

It was, he knew, going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was pleased with how threatening Merry came out in this. Very pleased. :)


	11. Tales of Lords and Elves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The elves of Mirkwood have their honor impinged (though they do not know it), and Thorin questions Merry and Pippin about Moria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, not sure how happy I am with this... but here it is anyway. :)

The two young hobbits took to riding with an ease that bespoke of long practice; in that they were completely the opposite of Thorin's burglar, who, even now, seemed more uncomfortable than not. The elder of the pair was on the receiving end of many a nervous, nay, _fearful_ look from the older prince, and Thorin wondered just what had brought it on. They had gone off to talk at some point that morning, while everyone was preparing to leave after their own fashion, and Fili hadn't been the same since. 

As Thorin pondered what could have happened between the two, he picked his way back down the line of ponies, yet again, keeping an eye out for any problems that might occur. On one such round, he heard the youngest hobbit telling Fili, "Whatever he told you, it isn't true! I swear!" 

To which his nephew replied, "It wasn't what he said, but what he did!" 

"Ho ho, Merry! To think you can make a member of the line of Durin quake with fear! I know of at least one dwarf who'd be proud!" 

"And I didn't say a word that wasn't true," Merry told them, sniffing imperiously. He ruined it with a grin. "Now now, young prince," he said, "you needn't fear, so long as you behave honorably. If you don't, then that's another matter." 

All this left Thorin more confused than before, though he remained silent as he headed back up the line. Whatever had his nephew done? Moreover, how was it that a hobbit, of all things, frightened Fili so much that it showed? 

A problem, he mused, for another time. The shadows of Mirkwood were already growing far too close. 

* * *

"We know you have a sword, but do you know how to use it?" Thorin's ears perked at the words, spoken by which hobbit, he wasn't sure. 

"I'm sure I don't want to," was Bilbo's reply. He was on the other side of the fire from Thorin, trying very hard not to look into the earnest faces of his young cousins. 

"Well, now! That won't do! However will your sword earn its name if you never use it?" It was Merry this time, which meant the first words had been Pippin. 

"Its name?" Bilbo asked, frowning. It was a look of mixed curiosity and trepidation. "What's its name?" 

"We can't tell you," said Pippin, rolling his eyes. "It's your job to name it. If we tell you, it mayn't happen." 

"Whether or not you tell me, it mayn't happen - as you said before, your very presence here changes things, and I mayn't have had anyone teach me anyway..." Bilbo trailed off into a disgruntled mutter. 

"But you could be good, and it just might be that we're _adversely_ affecting things. Don't take your survival in _our_ time as a guarantee of your survival in this time." Merry grabbed at his coat and pulled him up. "It doesn't hurt to know how to fight, you know. It may end up handy, even. You know, what with the trolls, the orcs and goblins and wargs and elves and spiders!" 

To Thorin's amusement Haldir said "What?" in a very startled tone. 

"Oh yeah," said Merry, grinning broadly. "Mirkwood has a _huge_ spider problem!" 

"Big enough to eat elves," said Pippin. "Much less little people like us." 

"Before that," said Haldir, a very serious look on his face that could morph into an actual scowl at any moment. 

"But you already know about the orcs and goblins and wargs," said Pippin. 

"Elves?" asked the elf in a strangled tone. Thorin suppressed a laugh. 

Wide eyed innocence suited the younger hobbit quite well. "I would have thought, seeing as you are one, that is, that you would already know all about the elves, Haldir." 

Merry smacked his cousin on the shoulder even as Thorin gave in and roared with laughter, various members of his party soon joining in once getting over their astonishment. The elf looked put out. 

Haldir tapped his foot for a moment, waiting for the noise to die down. "Why ever would you include elves on such a list?" 

Merry answered, fighting down that smile of his, "We're in the company of thirteen dwarves, Haldir. And the hospitality of the elves of Mirkwood is... In cousin Bilbo's story, it wasn't very hospitable, let's say. I honestly can't remember hearing any kind words about King Thranduil. How about you, Pip?" 

The younger hobbit thought for a long moment. "He's Legolas's father, isn't he? That's got to mean something!" 

"I suppose so," answered Merry. "At least, you'd think it meant something." He was quiet for a moment, then he gestured for Haldir to come closer. Whatever it was he then said had Haldir's expression turning nearly thunderous. "So you see what we mean? I think, maybe with you here, that may change... I'm not certain, though." 

Although Bilbo didn't go with them immediately, the next time they stopped for the night, Thorin was glad to see that his hobbit heeded the suggestions of his kin. 

* * *

"Tell me about Moria," Thorin rumbled suddenly. They were two days into the forest, and had only just discovered that to build a fire would draw in so many moths that they could hardly breathe through them. Their food was cold, and Thorin's patience was wearing thin. 

Merry, and Thorin only knew it was him because he had finally gotten the hang of distinguishing the cousins' voices from one another (Merry sounded slightly huskier - due perhaps to years of smoking pipeweed - but they both had sweet, high voices), answered with a cautious question. "What do you want to know?" 

"You say that you traveled through it in your journeys. I would like to hear more." He didn't need to make it an order; that was clear in his voice, already. Thorin didn't need to look to sense the elf's disgruntlement. 

They fell into that odd manner of arguing that they had (gentler than Fili and Kili's brotherly squabbles, but no less insistent) before one of them answered. This time it was Pippin. "We went in through the West Gate. Gandalf hadn't wanted to pass through Moria at all, but Gimli - yes, Gimli, Gloin's son - insisted that it was safe, and that his kinsmen had taken Moria back, five years previous..." 

Three more of their party learned of the deaths that had awaited them... perhaps more disturbingly, they learned of the horror that they would have awoken deep in the mines. Durin's Bane. Thorin breathed steadily through their tale (in which they, themselves, featured only in small part), and Gloin got to hear of the bravery of his son - and his son's friendship with an elf. 

"They got on quite well by that point," said Merry, "although I don't believe that either of them ever stopped casting aspersions on the other's species." 

Balin sighed heavily at this point, though it was obvious that he wasn't thinking of Gloin's son, but of the part of the tale featuring his own tomb. "Balin," he said, "Lord of Moria. It has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" 

After that, no one had the heart to speak.


	12. Late Night Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili thinks thinky thoughts, and Haldir is a nasty eavesdropper. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ehr... I don't even know.

"I think they're sweet," Kili murmured in Fili's ear, causing the blond dwarf to sharply veer to the side. "Merry's nice; I don't understand what your problem is!" 

Fili scowled at his brother. He could hardly see Kili's pasty face in Mirkwood's gloom, so close to twilight. During the day it was easier. Then, at least, he could tell if he was being mocked! He jostled Kili toward the edge of the path, where they were setting up camp. "I don't know if he meant to slit my throat or cut my braids," he muttered, ignoring Kili's half-laughing gasp, "and I'm not so sure which is worse!" 

Still chuckling under his breath, Kili went to grab their portions of the evening meal. It was strange, Fili thought, how thinking of Merry's threat brought him back to the reason for it. He couldn't even say that the hobbit's overprotective concern was unjustified. The more he thought on it, the more Fili realized that even now, he may already be in too deep. 

Thinking of Pippin's smooth cheeks (slightly off-putting, but seemingly not enough so) and his engaging grin (and his bright green eyes, engaging wits and quick fingers), he wondered if Pippin was just as fierce beneath his cheery demeanor. The thought was attractive, very attractive (too attractive). 

If it weren't already so late that all he could see was great big insect eyes in the darkness around their camp, Fili knew that his eyes would be seeking out the younger hobbit, to reassure himself that he was still there. Normally, at about this time, he would be able to hear him, and hear him he did. 

It was a quick spattering of words, mildly irate, and then his voice was gone again, lost amidst the deeper grumble of dwarven voices. With a soft thump, something landed beside Fili, and for a moment, he thought it was his brother. 

He was wrong. A soft hand, with long fingers, found his and pressed a bowl into it. "I intercepted Kili," said Pippin, his voice nearly silent. "I made him sit with Merry, 'cause Merry's mad at me." He sounded as though he were smiling, though, so Fili didn't comment just yet. "We're trading family for the evening." 

Trying not to grin, Fili asked, "Does that mean you're sleeping over here?" 

"That might be why Merry's a bit wroth with me. Although, I've got to ask, because I don't know him well enough to tell; but, has your uncle been acting a bit... strangely?" 

"Whatever do you mean?" he asked, turning his head to press the side of his face into Pippin's curly hair. It still smelled of honey, he noted, taking a deep breath. One of Pippin's hands patted at the other side of his face. Reprovingly, Fili thought, his earlier, suppressed grin coming back in force. 

"Nothing, maybe. What are you doing?" Pippin still sounded amused, rather than affronted. 

"You smell good," he replied shrugging and almost laughed at the disbelieving sound Pippin made. "I'm curious," he said. "When you were trying to convince me that Merry would 'bury me', you said something about killing a troll. I wanted to know how that came about." 

Pippin's voice dropped even further than it had been, and Fili had to strain to hear him, even with his face in the hobbit's hair. "Have you ever heard of Olog-hai? It was one of those. And... It isn't a good story anyway. It was in the middle of this great big battle, and I was scared, and I can't even remember clearly what happened. It fell on me when I killed it, though. I thought I was dead, until I woke up." 

"I'm sure it's just your story-telling skills that are impaired," Fili assured him. 

"Perhaps in a few years I'll be able to make it sound like a grand tale. It's still too close now." For a long moment Pippin was silent, then he said, "Did we mention the Ents?" 

Fili snorted softly. "And what's an Ent?" 

"They're a little like trees," the hobbit began, and told the most ridiculous sounding tale ever, about trees that walked like Men, herding trees like sheep. It was a fascinating story, though it did, eventually, put Fili to sleep. 

* * *

Even Haldir's eyes saw little in the gloom of the night. The halflings' tales worried him; it seemed as though the darkness that had fallen over Greenwood the Great had also fallen over his cousins, the wood elves. "Ents," he whispered. That was one of the few things they spoke of that sounded like it might be a good thing. Eavesdropping wasn't proper, but how could he help listening when Pippin told a story like that? 

It occurred to him that the halfling didn't say a word as to _how_ they had ended up in such a place as Fangorn, where few elves would dare to tread. Unfortunately, Fili didn't think to ask. 

To think that two, tiny, young creatures had ventured there, and met one of the oldest living creatures in their world... Hobbits really were amazing, he supposed. Mithrandir was right in that. 

Another thing to weigh on his mind, he supposed. The creature the dwarves referred to as Durin's Bane - the Balrog. That it was powerful enough to bring Mithrandir his death... _Troubling. Very troubling. Now why can't they have spoken of this while Mithrandir was here?_ he wondered. 

_And yet my penance is not over._ Haldir could have wished that it was not so, but he felt as though his fate was being tied in with the halflings and that blasted ring. The longer he followed them, the more it was so, and he couldn't leave until his penance was complete. 

He was already tied for good, he supposed, and it was best to give in gracefully. He could have left them at Beorn's. After all, that was what he was supposed to do. He could have waited until they told their tale to Mithrandir, confirmed it in Lady Galadriel's name, and then _left_. Perhaps he should have done so. 

_Either way,_ he mused, _it is far too late._

* * *

The next day, they find the Enchanted River, and Haldir very nearly is dunked in it while saving the fat dwarf from the same fate.


	13. Spiders!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo gets a moment of fame and Haldir gets horrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse for this. None. ;)

More than a couple of the party made it away with a close call from the water. The warnings Beorn had given them about the river had been vague - thankfully expounded upon by the younger hobbits - but they had been heeded. Thorin may have been amused if the elf had fallen in while rescuing one of his people, but Bilbo most certainly would not have found it funny in the least. 

It was easier for Bilbo to follow close behind Thorin, especially now that the path was too narrow for the dwarf to continue his regular personnel check. His broad shoulders blocked any possibility of seeing beyond him, but Bilbo was confident that if there was any trouble, Thorin would know first anyway (or Haldir, but there was no way Bilbo would even _think_ that very loudly while right behind Thorin). 

Days passed. The various dwarves, hobbits and elf were already growing grouchy, and the four resident trouble makers had gone mysteriously quiet for the most part. It was becoming obvious that they hadn't packed nearly enough food, and it was far too late to turn back. 

Thorin was in a right foul mood (not that anyone was in a good one) and though Bilbo remained close at hand, he tried to avoid standing in the king's direct line of sight. 

The only one who knew exactly where they were was Haldir, and he insisted that they seek Thranduil, adding that he would do his best to foster diplomatic relations. Bilbo was doubtful of this; he suspected that the only way Thorin would go to Thranduil's palace was if he were forced. 

Eventually, Thorin would accede, but that wouldn't be for some time yet, and by then, their situation would be much more dire. 

* * *

He wasn't sure how it happened. One minute Thorin was there, and then he wasn't. By the time Bilbo realized something was happening, all sounds in the camp ceased. Something urged him to put on that blasted ring; instinct or no, he couldn't fight the urge. 

It wasn't completely silent, he found, and with the ring on he could see more than he had been able to before. While he did wonder at that, he decided it was best to put it off. 

Instead, he would use this newfound night vision to find the others, who all seemed to be missing... with the exception of Merry, whose pallor was noticeable even in the odd half light Bilbo was moving through. 

"They're gone," he was whispering, shaking his head. A faint keening sound escaped his throat. "Pippin? Where did the..." 

"Hush!" Bilbo said, unintentionally harsh. "We shall look for them. Come with me." 

As though finding humor in this (gallows humor, perhaps), Merry smiled an odd, grim sort of smile. "I can't see you," he said. "But I'm glad your here." 

Bilbo didn't know what to say to that, and instead tugged at Merry's elbow, to start him in the right direction. 

* * *

By the time they found something, it was getting light enough for Merry to see by. The "something" surprised Bilbo's fair-haired cousin greatly, even as he said, "It's them." 

Cocoons hung suspended from the branches, and here and there, they could see beards or the tip of an exceptionally large nose sticking out. The bundles had little room to breath, he realized, panicking slightly. Keeping a hold on himself, he climbed up the nearest tree, in order to cut the cocoons down. 

Merry was muttering frantically to himself, "Oh Pip, where are you? I don't understand. This isn't how it happened in the story! Pippin, can you hear me?" 

Pippin and Haldir were the easiest to find, but there was another elf they found when they sliced the cocoons open. The only one stirring was Bombur, and seeing the pinch marks all over him, it was easy to see why. 

"We shall have to protect them," said Merry, with that same grim smile he had on before. "What had done this is liable to come back, and soon." While he spoke, he prepared Kili's bow. Giving the string several experimental tugs, he nodded, satisfied. 

"You can use that?" asked Bilbo, fingering the hilt of his sword. 

"Aye, I can. I doubt I can fire like an elf, but I can usually hit what I aim for." The smile turned slightly rueful. "I haven't had a lot of practice; this can be looked at as an opportunity to test out skills." 

Bilbo was not reassured. 

* * *

The spiders were horrible, Bilbo found, but not at all difficult to kill. Whether it was due to the occasional evening sparring practice, or the spiders natural clumsiness, he didn't know, but he didn't even need to put the ring on again (he had removed it while releasing their companions) in order to avoid their attacks. 

To his surprise, he even found himself singing as they died on his little sword, and by Merry's not-so-expert marksmanship. When they got close enough, Merry proved that his skill with the blade was sufficient enough to protect him and Pippin, who he stood over protectively. 

By the time the spiders gave up, Pippin and some of the less bitten dwarves proved that they weren't completely out of the fight. The remaining spiders ran away, crying, "Stings! They have stings! Oh mercy! Stings!" 

And Bilbo grinned, knowing that that was the name of his sword. "Sting you are," he said. Indeed, the blade had earned its name. 

* * *

It was Pippin's idea to try cooking the spider carcasses. "South of Gondor they eat spiders if they get big enough." It was a little disgusting, Bilbo thought, considering that the creatures had been able to speak. He almost wanted to remind everyone about the black squirrel, and how it had smoked this thick black oily smoke when they had tried to cook it, reeking like a long dead carcass. 

Not everyone was conscious by the time the first spider was deemed cooked enough, but there were enough of them to seek a volunteer to check the meat. Nori volunteered, oddly enough. "I eat a bit," he said, "and we wait fifteen minutes to see if its venomous." 

"Poisonous," Pippin corrected. "If it bites you, it's venomous; if you bite it, it's poisonous." 

The meat looked okay, white and looking strangely like chicken as it tore under Nori's thick fingers. They all waited silently as he took the first cautious bite. He chewed thoughtfully, and swallowed. "Doesn't taste bad," he commented, taking another bite. With unseemly relish, he finished the piece he had been given, offering to eat more of it. 

It was to the company's nervous laughter that Haldir woke up. Fifteen minutes later, when Nori declared himself "fitter than before", the rest of the company took their own first nervous bites. Another spider was added to the fire, and Bilbo offered a piece of the soft white meat to the elf. 

Naturally Haldir wanted to know what it was. "Giant spider," Bilbo admitted. He couldn't say he was surprised when Haldir turned green. 

_As they say, "More for me,"_ he thought, bemused, as Haldir stumbled away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In some places, they really do eat spiders. Also, Nori was going to get a bigger piece, but I couldn't figure out how to do it.
> 
> I seem to be being excessively mean to Haldir. :)


	14. The Choice of a King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin makes a tough decision, and an odd friendship begins to form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's short. :( But it seemed a sensible stopping point.

The new food source made things easier for a moment, but Thorin quickly came to the conclusion that the elf was right. His company was weary, hungry enough to eat unnatural spiders (and the little remains of this and that that everyone had tucked away - the hobbits weren't the only ones hiding food on themselves), and now they were suffering from a sickness caused by spider bites. 

And, as much as Thorin hated elves, he wasn't about to leave the extra one they had found to its ( _his,_ Thorin suspected) fate. While he might not be nice, even for a dwarf, nor was he intentionally cruel. Thus, they must go to Thranduil, as much as Thorin dreaded the prospect. 

Thorin was in no way stupid, as Gandalf, and later Haldir had begun to suggest. He was aware that his stubbornness and pride were potentially impeding his ability to complete this quest of his. He would only enter into any form of negotiations with Thranduil when he could see that things were in his favor: At the moment, hungry and harrowed as his company was, with the unconscious elf being in his care, he had leverage. 

It took nearly a day to convince himself to broach the subject with Haldir. The elf had finally given in and tried the spider (surprisedly declaring it "fit for consumption"), and had started to tutor Merry in the proper way to hold a bow. Much to Thorin's irritation, Kili was listening nearly as intently. 

Although he wouldn't admit as much, he was glad of Kili's interest. It meant that he wished to improve, and rare was the dwarven archer that could best the meanest of the elves. He couldn't begrudge Kili's decision in this, but he could interrupt the current lesson, which he did. 

"I would speak with you," he said, staring at the elf's ear, rather than his face. "And I would prefer not to speak of this in front of my kin." 

Haldir proved easy to draw away, smiling faintly as he followed Thorin away from the mess of dwarves. They paused once, Thorin tripping once over Pippin, who was half asleep at the edge of camp. Once they were away from the others, Haldir stilled and waited. 

"As much as I would prefer not to admit that it is so," he began, staring out into the darkness. He sighed, turned and looked the elf in the eye. The elf's eyes were cool and blue, with something smoldering deep down. As far as elves were concerned, Haldir wasn't half bad, he supposed. "You were right," he said, sighing again. Admitting it aloud was a weight off of his shoulders. 

"We're going to see Thranduil," Haldir surmised. His gaze turned back to the party, taking in their over all condition, and the way Oin was attempting to minister to the other elf. "If it weren't for the straights we are in, I would have remained in agreement with you." 

Thorin eyed the elf thoughtfully. "Why is that?" 

"Subtlety, more than anything, is important here, and the halflings..." Haldir paused, shaking his head with a slight smile. "They are terribly unsubtle." 

Thorin grinned, and before the elf had time to realize what he was doing, pounded him on the shoulder with a friendly chuckle. "You don't trust them either, do you?" In and of itself, that nearly made him _like_ Haldir. 

"I have heard things that make me doubt the wisdom of going there," the elf said, rolling his shoulder with a wince. "But I believe we have little choice." 

* * *

In the end, once Haldir was well enough, Thorin asked him (asked him, because Haldir was not one of his own, therefore he had no right to order him) to scout and seek Thranduil's people. It was galling to have to ask, but he had little choice where Haldir and his hobbits were concerned. 

After that, it wasn't long before the elves found them. And then there were things other than food and illness to worry about. His people would be given time to recover; in exchange, Thorin would attempt diplomacy.


	15. Thranduil's Hall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Like father is not like son."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anything glaringly, disturbingly wrong, don't hesitate to say so. :)

Legolas, as soon as he caught sight of the visitors, set off to prepare the best available rooms (there were plenty of them) for their guests. _Dwarves!_ he thought excitedly. It had been so long since he had seen dwarves! 

It did not take long to have food prepared for the party, but when he arrived in the great hall, no one had told the company that they would be given anything - the lot of them were breaking their fast, under his father's roof, as if his father hadn't offered them hospitality! 

And by Thranduil's expression (shame-faced, under the scalding tongue of Marchwarden Haldir, whom Legolas hadn't seen in a very long time), he realized just how poorly it looked on him. As for Legolas, he was embarrassed for the courtesy of his people. These people, these dwarves (and not all of them were dwarves - other than Haldir, there were three creatures he had never before seen the like of), were polite enough not to mention the lack of courtesy of Thranduil's hall. 

He cleared his throat quietly, earning the attention of Haldir, the dwarf beside him (who looked enough like Thrain and Thror that it was obvious who he was, even if Legolas didn't know his name) and his father all at once. "It seems that the courtesy was overlooked," he began, and Thranduil's expression pointedly did not change, "and you haven't been informed; but I see that you and your people are weary. I have looked to having rooms prepared for you, and food. I apologize for not seeing to it beforehand that you would be informed." 

"I see that like father is not like son," Haldir said with a smirk. Thranduil silently fumed on his throne. "We shall take our leave now, and I thank you, Prince Legolas." 

A short time later, as he brought the dwarves to their rooms, he overheard one of them muttering, "If my son had to fall in with an elf, I'm glad enough that it's this one." 

The words greatly confused Legolas, as he was the only elf (other than Haldir) that had bothered to speak much to them, and he hadn't spoken with a dwarf since before the fall of Erebor. 

* * *

The hobbits, for that was what the three tiny people that accompanied the dwarves called themselves, were positively delightful. They weren't especially well-educated, though the oldest one knew quite a bit of elvish - certainly enough to chatter away amiably with some of the more friendly elves - and he soaked up whatever knowledge they were willing to share like a sponge. 

The other two, significantly taller, and just as significantly younger, seemed hardly ever parted, though when they were, Legolas often found the taller one in the presence of the blond dwarf (so unusual!) or the marchwarden. The other was also in the company of the marchwarden, but it seemed that of the two, he was more likely to be off on his own. 

That one gave Legolas shy but friendly smiles, often disappearing right afterwards. If only he could corner one of them! The taller one did much the same thing, only he occasionally looked as though he would speak. 

When Legolas finally managed to convince one to talk to him, it was that one. His name was Pippin, and he seemed to grin quite a lot, and once Legolas got him to start talking, he didn't seem like he would stop any time soon. He asked Legolas many questions (some of which made little sense - like asking after Tauriel, who Legolas was certain that the little one had never had the chance to meet) rarely pausing for the answer and told all sorts tall tales. As engaging as the stories were, he wasn't sure that this "Tom Bombadil" character wasn't completely made up; same thought applied to his companion "Goldberry". 

"Never seen a prettier face; as lovely as she is, Lady Galadriel could hardly compare," Pippin prattled on, "'Slender as a willow-wand, clearer than the water,' indeed, and such a lovely voice... like bells, I swear to it! In spite of all that, there was something earthy about her. I would dearly like to see them again!" 

Yes, Legolas was sure that it was more than half invention (engaging as it was) until the first time Pippin mentioned Ents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are these getting shorter? No matter. At least I'll update again fairly soon. :D
> 
> In my headcanon for this chapter, everyone emptied their pockets of whatever food they had left (lembas, spider, dried fruit and honey - now who had that?) and ate while waiting for Thranduil to be done with them. Thranduil is a terrible host. I wouldn't visit him. :)


	16. A Nosy Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas is obnoxious, Pippin is mature(ish) and Haldir breaks something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legolas wanted to act like a child in this one, so he got his way. :)

With the exception of Thranduil himself, Pippin found that the cavern palace was actually quite nice. There was lots of food, hot springs that had been diverted into baths, an unused dungeon that he had briefly gotten lost in, and lots of trouble to find. 

As with all such things, he hardly _meant_ to find it. He rather doubted that Haldir would believe him should he say as much, and so merely tried to keep a low profile. 

The spider venom still in his system was making it harder and harder not to get caught at these things, though. He was both noisier and clumsier than usual (in noise, he was still quieter than most of the dwarves, bit louder now than an elf), and he tripped over Legolas five times before he gave up on his and Merry's decision to avoid their friend. 

He had been worried that he would try to superimpose the image of his friend Legolas over _this_ Legolas. So far it hadn't been a problem; this Legolas seemed younger to Pippin, more open. It made his resolve crumble like sand. 

Knowing that Legolas would be unlikely to join them, he managed to keep his mouth shut about the important things - such as what they were doing. The prince had laughingly asked, should they come through Mirkwood again, Pippin should tell him his story (the full one, the real one). 

The one thing about talking with Legolas that truly bothered Pippin was that Galadriel had asked them to pass on a message to the elf prince if they were to see him. Her prophesy in their time held true for this time, and it was looking less likely that she could deliver the message in person. 

Remembering Legolas's reaction to her prophesy curdled the warm milk in his stomach (they didn't keep much honey in the palace, apparently, but they had lots of milk, and like many hobbits, Pippin tended toward overindulgence), and set him well on his way toward a stomach ache. 

Legolas, he remembered, had taken the words as a death knell, so when he appeared later with the Oathbreakers, it was a source of genuine surprise. 

While Pippin knew that the prophesy hadn't meant what Legolas had thought, he was still sure that it would cause this younger Legolas similar distress. 

Just talking to him was a great joy, thought Pippin, although Legolas's initial attempts to talk to him and Merry had been rather trying, in a way, what with them trying not to talk to him and him trying very hard to talk to them... As endearing as it was, it did so make finding private time of any sort more than a little difficult. 

Did Pippin wish a bath? Legolas found him. Did he want to spend a quiet hour with Merry? Legolas found them. Did he want a spare moment to torment Fili (something which was quickly becoming a favored pastime)? Legolas interrupted him. If they had gotten to the point of anything interesting, Legolas would have been the definition of "coitus interruptus". He was like a small child, let loose in a barn, knowing that there were kittens nearby (tiny, cute ones, likely of the extremely fuzzy sort - maybe even the pug-nosed ones). 

In short, as fond as Pippin was of him, it was getting ridiculous. 

* * *

It would have been Haldir, Pippin supposed, who would cool down Legolas's minor obsession. He had been having a conversation with Legolas about various types of arrows and what the different uses for different kinds of heads were. 

It was interesting, though Pippin did feel that Merry or Kili would have gotten more out of it - leave him to throwing stones, anytime (on that note, Merry's sudden interest in archery was just a little odd, even by Took standards, which are often not so stringent as Brandybuck standards). 

The conversation had fallen into a lull, and they just stood there quietly for several long minutes, Legolas picking at his fingernails (which were quite clean already) with the tip of a barbed arrow. 

Around the corner came Haldir, eyes closed, expression empty, bland as can be. Without warning (okay, maybe there was a twitch, but Pippin was sure Legolas saw more than him), the elf stopped, turned, and punched the wall, right over Pippin's head, with enough force that he could have sworn he heard something break. 

Unable to help himself, Pippin cringed, and waited for Haldir to calm down and notice his presence. After a moment, the elf's eyes did open, and Pippin felt a little better seeing the surprise in them. "Ehr..." 

"My apologies," he said, inclining his head slightly. "I should have been looking." In a curious gesture, he removed his fist from where it had been planted and eyed it thoughtfully. 

To Pippin's dismay, the knuckles were split any bleeding. "Haldir," he whined, worried. 

Haldir just grimaced. "I seem to have injured my hand," he said, his tone self-depreciating. 

To Pippin's side, Legolas let out an amused huff. "I also seem to have injured my hand." Pippin turned to look. If anything, Legolas's hand was worse than Haldir's; it had a barbed arrowhead sticking part way through it. 

Though he did not know why (after all, neither injury was on him, and he'd already begun to recover from the fright Haldir had initially given him), he began to feel faint. As he mused on the fact that the blood he was seeing was not his own, the world seemed to close in on him. He suspected that he really wasn't over the spider venom. 

That was his last thought before he fell into a dead faint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's still short. :( Then again, it's bigger than the last one.
> 
> Also, in case it wasn't obvious, Haldir didn't realize they were there. :0


	17. Oin's Treatment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wounds are tended and boys are boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oin gets a part! I am surprised. :)

Oin wasn't unfamiliar with broken knuckles, and after their stay in the forest he was familiar with the spider venom too. That Haldir had put himself and Pippin under his care (though the elf was recalcitrant in admitting why) wasn't surprising. The surprise came when the elvish prince came in with him, an arrowhead halfway through his palm. 

"I'm sure you know what you're doing," Legolas said with a pinched smile. "At worst, I can take it to my father's healers later. I will accept Haldir's trust in you as appropriate, unless you think it is too much?" 

The trouble with barbed arrows, Oin mused, was the fact that you couldn't pull them back the way they went in. Thankfully it was narrow, and already halfway out. With the shaft broken off, he wasted no time removing the head. "How ever did you do that, lad?" he asked, mildly amazed. 

"I was picking my nails," Legolas said, watching closely as he put salve and the appropriate bandages on the injury. 

"I'd say it looks like you picked too hard, and in the wrong spot," he said dryly. Haldir snorted from where he was seated, watching Oin's work just as closely as Legolas. He adjusted the bundle that was Pippin in his lap. "And how is the little lad?" 

Haldir checked the hobbit's forehead with his uninjured hand. "He's not sweating, and he isn't warmer than usual." 

Oin knew better than to say anything about the elf's tendency to pay a little too close of attention to the well being of the hobbits. "He shouldn't be running about so much," he said instead, motioning for the elf to put the young hobbit down. "They say hobbits are tough, but poison is poison, and no one else is recovered enough for the same behavior - not even me. Not you. Give me your hand." The elf's knuckles weren't broken. Thankfully. "You've dislocated them, you ninny. How are you to shoot a bow if you make a fool of yourself punching walls?" 

Haldir maintained that blasé look of his, as though nothing Oin said was going to get through. 

"I can do this all day," he blustered, glowering at the elf. "You think that you've got the first busted hand I've treated? You may as well tell me what got you into such a snit, then we can see that it doesn't happen again!" 

* * *

Haldir wasn't forthcoming at all, but Legolas could speculate about what it was. An argument, he thought, with an elven healer. And that would explain the marchwarden's desire to not have to deal with another elf. He held no issue with Legolas. Indeed, he seemed almost friendly, compared to their last meeting (quite some time ago, and it was possible that Haldir had gotten caught in one of Legolas's pranks, and that was why they hadn't spoken since). 

The dwarf healer, Oin, though gruff was competent enough. Between his salve and efficiency, there was little that the healers in his father's palace could have done better. They might have been a little less rough in the treatment, but the end result was much the same. 

The healer grumbled as he relocated the marchwarden's knuckles, very painfully from the look of it, about how he had never thought to treat an elf for a common dwarf problem. 

Legolas couldn't help but ask, "Dwarves have a problem punching walls, do they?" 

"You have no idea," grouches the dwarf. 

Pippin, he told them after actually looking at him, should have been resting. His prognosis hadn't changed in the least. 

"Can't let your people look after him, now can we?" Oin asked. The answer was obvious enough. "They all get away from me eventually too, but not if they haven't the energy for it." He eyed Legolas from under his bushy grey brows. "And you, my boy, are quite lucky. That could have been permanent damage. You should be more careful." 

It had been a long time, he mused, since anyone had called him "boy". 

* * *

Oin was just about to find a blunt instrument (for his own head) when Fili crashed into his room an hour later, followed by his brother and Merry, who looked more than a little wild-eyed. Fili and Kili really shouldn't have been running around so actively either but... Oin would leave that worry for their uncle. Taking a deep breath, he bellowed, "He's just fine, boys!" and smirked when they all cowered at the sound. In normal speaking tones, or as near as he could manage, he added, "He's just sleeping." 

They weren't immediately satisfied, and like the silly boys they were, went to crowd about the sleeping hobbit, who was indeed sleeping hard to have not woken up by that yell of Oin's. 

"Other than Master Merry," he said, cracking his knuckles and grinning at the young dwarves, "you should all be resting too, shouldn't you?" 

With a crafty look that didn't well suit his face, Fili cried "Dibs!" and climbed up onto the bed with Pippin, smirking at Merry like a dare. 

At this, Oin raised a brow, but really, was it any of his business, what the boys got up to? 

No it was not. And he intended to keep it that way. If they came to him regarding lover's complaints? He would tell them to suck it up and deal with it. "Sort yourselves out but don't disturb him more than you already have! I'm going to visit with the only sensible folks around here!" 

"Who's that?" asked Merry, pausing in the middle of an impressively murderous glare to look over at Oin. 

"Balin, most times," he said, walking for the door, "my brother when he's not in a mood, and Nori, when he isn't cheating." With a salute, he left the four to it, knowing that with Merry there, at least if Pippin woke up, the presence of his older cousin might be able to convince him to stay abed.


	18. Bilbo's Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo focuses on making something. Mostly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's short again, but the speed of my updates totally make up for it, right?

While Pippin tried to galavant about the palace, and Merry spent much time worrying about him, the last hobbit of their party spent his time on something else. It may have been the journey and its hardships bringing out the romance of his soul, or it may simply have reminded him of a time when the Shire hadn't yet belonged to his people. 

It had been nearly fourteen hundred years since the beginning of the Shire Reckoning, and even their most traditional families had mostly forgotten the old ways, from their time wandering the world. Courting back then was done in a very particular sort of way. 

Bilbo thought that he might be being shy, then again, his cousins might accuse him of being "stodgy" by going through with this. He liked to think that it was a matter of doing it right; after all, some of the things he had already done counted as old courtship rites. 

The part about inviting the other into one's home was perhaps a little iffy, because Bilbo had done no such thing. When all this was over, he decided, he would have to do that part over again. It still counted for another list item: Caring for that which belongs to one's intended. He had certainly done that! 

He looked down at the twists of fine linen and wool in between his fingers. Strands of burgundy red, beige, bronze and yellowy grass green (strips torn from his clothing, in places where it wouldn't show) were woven together, and as he stared at it, he suspected that the item would never be worn. If he had been planning to give it to an elf, well, elves seemed to like such things, but dwarves? No, they preferred metal, and Bilbo couldn't really blame them. It was unlikely that this was going to be well received. 

"Hope springs eternal," he supposed, continuing the weave. The colors really did go well together. Too bad he hadn't been wearing blue! These colors, as well as they went together, just wouldn't look right against steel, fur and blue wool. "Silly hobbit," he sighed, though his fingers did not stop weaving. 

The band was, traditionally, made from one's own attire. In those days, hobbits were well accustomed to traveling great distances, and gifts were made to be practical, made with a hobbit's own nimble fingers. Bilbo couldn't say that he was accustomed to weaving in this manner, but it was important that he make it himself, the traditional way. 

Even if Thorin wouldn't understand. 

Or, perhaps, especially since he wouldn't understand. In that, there was a form of safety, Bilbo knew. And he wasn't a coward (not by Shire standards, which had admittedly fallen since the olden days), but he couldn't just wear his heart on his sleeve like some people do! At best, it would be unseemly; at worst, he would be hurt. 

He had already been hurt by Thorin Oakenshield, but he couldn't bring himself to so much as dislike the dwarf- the king - and really, he felt more and more foolish the longer he continued this. The thought wasn't enough to make him stop. 

* * *

Merry watched with thinly veiled amusement as Bilbo attempted to subtly slip a length of cloth around Thorin's wrist at dinner. On the second pass, he nudged Pippin (Oin had finally told him to get out of his room and make some trouble), gesturing in their cousin's direction. Pippin didn't get it immediately, but once he did, he snorted into his drink and began coughing. 

"I just want to know how he thinks Thorin isn't going to notice that," Merry said, snickering. On the fourth attempt, Bilbo had finally managed to loop the cloth around the king's thick wrist. He looked awful pleased with himself, too. 

Pippin giggled helplessly into a napkin, as he wiped away traces of wine dripping from his nose. "No, really, he's doing good, we should offer to make them a bowl!" 

And that set Merry off. 

Dimly he could hear Pippin trying to explain the older, mostly unused (except in the older families, such as the Tooks and the Brandybucks, which used to be the Oldbucks) courting traditions of the Shire to Fili and Kili, and maybe Haldir. "And as we're the only family here with him, we're to carve a bowl for him to gift his intended with, and so doing we show the tacit approval of the family." 

Merry continued giggling. Thranduil, it seemed, had good taste in wine, at least.


	19. Pippin and Fili's Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boys will be boys. And Thranduil's wine stock takes a minor hit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still short. :)

"I'm just unlucky," Pippin said to Fili, late enough in the evening that almost everyone was asleep (Merry, he suspected, had gone off to sleep next to Haldir, and if that was the case, the elf was in for a huge surprise). Pippin was far too awake after days of enforced bed rest (Oin was a little scary - and with an uncle like that, Gimli's roughness made a certain amount of sense). "I think I end up playing the damsel in distress too often, don't you?" 

Fili chuckled, shaking his head. _He_ was just following Pippin for the entertainment of it (so he said, but Pippin couldn't shake the niggling feeling that he was lying, at least in part). "I agree that you've been unlucky though. The closest I've seen you to fighting has been scaring Nori's britches off." 

"And Merry's being a fuddy duddy, and cousin Bilbo, he's rather boring, isn't he? He had always been one of our favorites, because he told such wonderful stories, but in the midst of the best one, he's... boring." Pippin scoffed as they rounded a corner. There were no elves about, and he turned and grinned at Fili. "While he neglected the general layout of the palace in his stories, he gave a clear enough indication of where the wine cellar is." 

Fili's delighted laugh, though a bit loud, was undoubtedly one of the best things he had heard all day. 

* * *

They were well into a barrel (a small barrel, but a barrel nonetheless) before Fili asked about what Bilbo had done. "I'm sure Uncle saw it," he slurred. "Was there a reason he was trying not to get caught at it?" 

"P'raps 'e's shy." That seemed likely enough of an explanation. "If 'e don't take it off right away, it means he's considering it." Pippin very carefully enunciated the word "considering" and when he was done mouthed it a few times. "P'raps," he suggested, "this wine is a bit stronger than Beorn's mead." 

With dismay, Fili looked down at the cup in his hands, "That would make it not wine," protested the dwarf. "That mead was, wow, and this don't taste strong?" 

Pippin giggled and slumped onto Fili's shoulder. "In Merry's name!" he said and laughed harder at the look on Fili's face. Remembering what he had been planning to say, he started again, "In Merry's name, I have to ask, uhm, 'What do you plan to do with me?'" 

"You ask me now?" Fili cried, half laughter and half dismay (greater dismay than that with which he had looked at his cup). "If I could, it would be something, now wouldn't it? But I think we're both a little to drunk for that, and we would never reach our rooms!" 

"P'raps you're right," sighed Pippin. "T'would 'ave been nice, to get carried when I'm not injured or about to be eaten!" 

"Eaten," snorted Fili, leaning just a little too heavily onto Pippin, and making the hobbit lose his balance with a startled cry. "I'll show you 'eaten'!" With those words, he toppled over as well, his much larger mass easily covering Pippin's narrow body. 

There were many things that crossed Pippin's slightly addled mind at that moment (not the least of which was how glad he was that Fili smelt nothing like an Orc), and although he was sure that there were much better things to do in this position, he was under the strange impression that he was about to be tickled. He was right. 

With a squeal and a wriggle, he worked to escape but between Fili's weight (by Eru was the dwarf heavy!) and his prodding fingers, Pippin couldn't do much other than writhe and giggle. "Cruel," he gasped at one point, when Fili's fingers paused. "Too cruel!" 

Fili stopped for a long moment, and still lying heavily against him just stared down at him as Pippin continued to jerk against his hold for a few seconds after he had stopped tickling him. The kiss wasn't a surprise, but how quickly it heated up was. It wasn't destined to continue, however. Fili's body slanted to the side, and he rumbled, deep in his throat, something about sleeping. 

As disappointing as that was, Pippin could hardly disagree, and yawned a huge, jaw cracking yawn. He was halfway to sleep before his eyes even finished closing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You dirty folks. ;) Probably expecting more than that. lol


	20. Merry's Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili follows Merry like a sad puppy, and Haldir is weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Person at fault for Haldir's behavior in this chapter - you know who you are!

With hardly any body hair to speak of, Merry still thought elves' bodies were blessed odd, at best. It was balanced out, in part, by the sheer furriness of the dwarves. "Kili, surely you're old enough to bathe on your own?" Merry was already in the hot mineral water baths, and he wasn't about to get out. He was also appropriately grateful that Pippin hadn't been in them shortly before he arrived; one of the things his younger cousin was notorious for was ending a bath with more water outside the tub than in it. In this case, it would be a veritable flood, since the baths weren't proper hobbit-sized tubs. In fact, they weren't tubs at all (and he could see Pippin finding that as a challenge). 

Kili was already naked and climbing in, shrugging. "I don't like being alone," he said simply. "As much as I would like to, I can't walk on my brother's heels all the time. But I don't like being alone." He repeated the last part firmly, without a trace of bitterness that Merry could detect. 

They bathed in companionable silence for some time. Merry mostly just lay back and soaked in the heat, having already preformed his ablutions to his satisfaction. He might have been timing how long it took for him to prune, as the mineral water seemed to cause it at a different rate than heated well water. It was thicker too, and tasted bitter on his tongue. 

As though in response to that thought, Kili began coughing like he had swallowed some of it by mistake. "The water's strange," he complained. "Where is Pippin, anyway?" he asked in an abrupt change of subject. 

"He implied that he would not sleep until late, and he was in such a mood as I'm sure he's already finding trouble," Merry replied. That should worry him, he suspected, but he didn't think Thranduil would do worse than kick them out, no matter what Pippin did. 

"And you aren't worried?" asked Kili, arching an eyebrow as he tried running his fingers through his tangled hair. 

"Pippin has a Took's luck," Merry replied, shrugging. "He'll fall off a cliff only to find diamonds. Or, he'll do something that should have, by rights, pissed off the wizard, and he'll get to do everything he was most recently complaining about not getting to do." That incident still irked him, just a little. But it was, as he said before, just Pippin's luck. 

For a while longer they soaked, and Merry was finally beginning to see evidence of pruning on his hands. Kili, Merry noted, was a lot quieter than his Pippin, even though, of the pair of him and his brother, Kili was more like Pippin and Fili was more like Merry. Such comparisons only went so far, and Kili was definitely too quiet to be companionable at the moment. As he would in the cases when Pippin grew too quiet, Merry began to talk, "It didn't happen that way in Bilbo's story, you know. The way he told it, you would have passed over the river; he would have climbed a tree to scout some time later; a bit after that, you would have seen elves feasting in the woods, and everyone would have fallen asleep in the clearings, and that's when the spiders would have come." He paused, examining the prune lines on his fingers. 

"So why did the spiders show up early?" asked Kili, looking up from where he had been scrubbing at his knee. 

"Because we left Beorn's late," Merry concluded. He had been thinking about it for a long while; ever since, in fact, he saw the cocoons in the trees. "We were there for nearly a week. In Bilbo's story it was only a couple of days. Then we moved ahead faster from the river, because Bombur didn't fall in." 

"So the elf really did save him?" Kili asked, eyes wide. "You know, I saw Uncle patting him on the shoulder the other day, just like he was another dwarf!" 

"Saved us a lot of trouble, surely," Merry agreed, mind reeling over the idea that Thorin might... Oh dear. "Your uncle, he doesn't like... Does he?" He wasn't even sure why that thought bothered him so much, but poor Bilbo, if it was so! 

"What?" Kili's eyes widened even further, until they looked ready to pop right out. "Oh no! Why would you even..? No, oh Mahal, no!" Then he nearly drowned himself, laughing. "An elf!" he gasped, tears streaming down the sides of his face. "Uncle would have your tongue for thinking it!" He shook his head as he brought his breathing under control and sat upright again. "Besides, I really do think he returns Master Baggins's affections. I really do." 

"What an odd lot we are," Merry sighed. At that, deciding that his body was sufficiently pruney, he heaved himself out of the water and grabbed a towel. 

Behind him, Kili did the same. "Hey now, where are you going? You can't leave me alone!" He sounded so certain of himself that Merry didn't know what to make of it. 

"I intend to go to bed, Mister Kili, whether or not you wish it." He scrubbed himself dry and so did Kili, and as he dressed, Kili was hardly a step behind him in that, as well. 

"But to where do you go to bed?" Kili asked, his tone mulish. 

"If he doesn't throw me out for interrupting his beauty rest, I plan on stealing Haldir's bed. Why?" The question came out with a sense of growing unease. 

"I'm following you," Kili announced. 

And he did. 

Haldir made barely a blink, making note of who was bothering him, when Merry clambered up onto his bed (which looked far too big, even, for an elf, or two, or even three!). He didn't blink at all when Kili followed, likely thinking it was Pippin. 

The elf was still for long enough that Merry thought he had simply fallen back asleep. He let out a quiet squeak of "What are you doing?" when the assumption was proven wrong - by Haldir grabbing him around the waist and dragging him until he was even with the elf's head. 

"Sh'up," muttered Haldir with the distinct air of, "my bed, my rules". Kili began giggling as the elf tried to use Merry as a pillow. 

Merry wasn't amused, not really (okay, deep down, he really was amused, but not about to admit it). He wasn't as soft and cuddly as he used to be, so it irked him to be used as a pillow when he wasn't at his best. "What are you doing?" he asked again. 

Haldir grunted something unintelligible into his belly, making him try to squirm away, and then abruptly sat up and glared at Kili, asking, "Pippin?" 

"Off making trouble, says Merry," Kili replied, grinning. 

Apparently satisfied, Haldir lay back down, muttering, "If you are going to be here, you had better sleep." 

And if the three of them woke up in the morning, in a truly embarrassing tri-racial tangle, they weren't talking about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more like normal length. And really, I would like to see oppinions on this (I think it might be a happy medium, but I can always leave it as platonic).


	21. Thorin's Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While he does wonder about the thing his burglar put on his wrist, he does have other things to worry about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, the person at fault knows who she is. :D

He had seen it halfway through dinner - doubled around his wrist, a band of cloth woven from red and bronze, pale green and beige. The colors, he only knew one person who wore those colors, and Bilbo Baggins had left the table some time before. He could only imagine that there was some kind of significance, or else his burglar would have stayed to explain, or at least just given it to him instead of looping it about his wrist while he wasn't looking. 

It did explain Dwalin's odd moment during the meal, where he had stopped eating to cough violently and then snigger at nothing Thorin could tell. 

Thorin wanted to ask, but hadn't had the option, as he was called to speak with Thranduil after the meal. The King of the Woodland Realm of Mirkwood wasn't his preferred after dinner companion, though his company was mitigated by a very fine wine. The elf king was everything his son was not - rude, cold, irritable. "As previously stated," Thorin said, already feeling a headache coming on, one that was _not_ mitigated by Thranduil's wine. "We can tell you little but that the next stop on our journey must be Lake Town; if Haldir was here, he would tell you no differently. In this, I shall abide by the Lady of the Golden Wood's words. Her marchwarden is wise enough to do so as well." 

"Two strange creatures, the likes of which most elves have never seen, entered Lothlorien, several months ago. Marchwarden Haldir left his duties shortly thereafter to accompany these creatures somewhere, to join your company, perhaps?" Dark brows narrowed over Thranduil's ice-blue eyes. Blond elves, Thorin noticed, blue eyes or not, always seemed to have dark eyebrows. "Immediately thereafter Lady Galadriel left her Golden Wood. It seems suspicious, does it not?" 

"You would do better to question Haldir," Thorin repeated. "He knows more of this than I, and I cannot say what he knows. Therefore it is he you should ask." Thranduil eyed him in silence. Thorin drank his wine. Despite its smoothness, there was something about it that belied its sweetness. One draught was like unto a sip off of Dwalin's flask. "Trying to ply my tongue loose with drink, are you?" He smirked as the elf king blinked. "You are aware of how we dwarves behave when drunk, are you not?" 

Thranduil made a faint sound that might have been a sigh. "And yet, Thorin son of Thrain, I doubt that you are of the sort to carouse as your people would." 

"I am not," he agreed. 

"Your party has taken well to my son," Thranduil mused, as though idly. "I find it a bit strange, if I might say so." 

It had been Gloin who had taken most to spending time with and speaking to the elf prince. "Gloin believes that Legolas would get along quite well with his son." He didn't say why Gloin thought as much, just smiled. "Forgive me," he said dryly, "but I must retire for the night. I'm sure that we will be out of your way soon enough. In the meantime, good night." 

* * *

Thinking to speak to Haldir about Thranduil's questioning, Thorin stopped at the elf's room first. He couldn't make himself go beyond the doorway, though, not after looking in the bed. Haldir was there, certainly, his usually pristine hair fallen in all directions around the body of a young hobbit the he was using for a pillow. 

That wouldn't have been so bad. No, the thing that caused Thorin to still was the other head using Merry Brandybuck as a pillow. If anything, Kili's hair was even more widely spread than the elf's, sticking out and up at crazy angles and tangled quite thoroughly with Haldir's. Their faces were hardly an inch apart, and come morning, they were going to have such difficulty freeing themselves from each other (Haldir's arms, even, were twined about both the hobbit and Thorin's nephew in a manner that looked quite uncomfortable). 

Thorin shook his head, once, twice, and he didn't want to know how this had come to pass, he really didn't, and he didn't see Fili and couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing and... 

Hands flapping he tried to dispel the thought of what debauchery his elder nephew might be up to, and still shaking his head, he backed out. 

Such things were too much for him. And he did not want to know any more of it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Thorin. No more til tomorrow folks. I gotta sleep for work tonight. Wouldn't do to fall asleep at the wheel. :)


	22. Rude Awakenings (for some)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Morning After.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't hardly make myself write yesterday at all. Had a bit of the fever, and wow, did my head pound. So if you were wondering where I was... wonder no more!

Fili and Kili awoke in a similar enough manner. When each of them opened their eyes it was to find the face of an elf far too close. Fili recoiled (his elf was unfamiliar, with a cloud of silky red hair about her head), whereas Kili flinched and stilled (years of waking next to his brother had taught him not to jerk away like that, but to first check his hair), staring at Haldir's familiar, oddly round (for an elf) face. 

Too full of strong wine, Fili grew suddenly ill (the elf was there for a reason, he later found; she was a healer that the wine steward had collected upon finding Fili and Pippin unconscious next to a nearly empty barrel), and after some time was shuffled off to breakfast with a protesting hobbit, who hadn't the decency to keep his voice down. It should be noted that Pippin wasn't denying a desire for breakfast, which, even in his current condition would have worried Fili greatly; no, he was denying the need for help ("Why, I think between us we only had one of those little barrels! We'll be fine!"), and Fili was grateful that the elf was having nothing of it, though she did ask Fili if he had had more, perhaps, than Pippin (he hadn't). 

As for Kili... He nervously tried to untangle his hair from Haldir's, while the elf slept soundly on. Unlike his brother's hair, the elf's was strange and slippery beneath his fingers, and utterly uncooperative. His own hair was thick and coarse, by comparison, and deep down, he wondered how different Merry's might be. Merry, like Haldir, continued sleeping as though nothing was amiss, and if Kili continued to wriggle in his discomfort, he was sure that he would wake the hobbit in an embarrassing fashion. 

_However,_ he wondered, _did we get in such a way, anyway?_

Kili laid, rather comfortably, from waist down, between the hobbit's legs (the one between him and the elf was stuck up at such an angle as it managed to hook around the elf's hip), and his arm, right arm, was even now, curled beneath Merry's soft waist, and his head had been pillowed low on his chest. Kili's legs... Well, the less said, the better, or so he thought. There would be crude jokes told about this for years: What happens when you put an elf, a hobbit and a dwarf to bed together? 

Even fully dressed, it will look bad, he decided, and, with his one free hand, continued to attempt to disentangle their hair. 

It was when he looked up and saw Haldir's blue eyes (with their odd, dark ring about the irises) staring at him in that thoughtful, elf-like way, that he recoiled. Forgetting that the sheets were silk was one thing; forgetting that they were currently attached was another! Kili's hand slipped, his hair was pulled, and he and Haldir were suddenly face to face again, painfully. 

Merry woke to muttered curses in Khuzdul and Sindarin, as two pairs of hands worked on the tangles. "Merry," Haldir asked, in an exasperated tone, "would you go and find some oil?" 

And so he did, but it was still several hours before Kili or Haldir were seen about the palace. 

* * *

At breakfast Bilbo had noticed that a large number of the party were acting strangely. Kili, for one, had elven warrior braids in his hair, and each time he tried to remove him, Haldir glared at him and hissed a threat that Bilbo later learned was "If you remove them, I will shave your head!" 

Fili showed all signs of a nasty hangover, and shoved his partly eaten plate toward Pippin, who seemed delighted with the offering. Merry kept casting glances at both Haldir and Kili, but said nothing (though Bilbo did notice a blush there, and he was usually right about these things). 

Oin was grumpy, Nori looked unusually pleased with himself, Gloin was weeping into his breakfast (or sleeping in it, Bilbo wasn't sure). Bofur was juggling (not too unusual), Bifur was actively seeking the green things on the table (because he was an odd dwarf), and Bombur was eating everything close at hand (nothing odd there, either). Dori was casting suspicious looks in Nori's direction, and Ori had taken to throwing the less desirable items in his plate into Bofur's juggling act. 

Thorin... Thorin was actively not looking at anyone. He had this aura about him that clearly said that he didn't want to know what was going on last night, and he didn't want to know who it was with! Thorin was also, Bilbo saw, still wearing the band Bilbo had made for him. 

Bilbo could hardly care about anything else (except, perhaps, the exquisite taste of clotted cream on peaches) for the rest of the morning (until second breakfast, anyway).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another shorty. :)  
> Headcanon here, Haldir had to sit on Kili to put those braids in and Merry had front row seats for that. Poor boy enjoyed that more than he should. :)


	23. Where's That Missing Dwarf?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A missing dwarf (who no one had noticed the absence of), an obnoxious elf, an obnoxious dwarf, an embarrassed elf, and an irritated king, who is not a dwarf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to you if you noticed the dwarf that was missing from last chapter. :)

Dwalin snored, cheerfully drunk, mostly asleep, and he certainly couldn't give a care for anything outside of his pleasant dreams, even if his bum was starting to itch unpleasantly. Now that he thought about it, his dreams started down less pleasant lanes, and he realized with a start that he wasn't even sitting upright! Nor was he lying down, which gave him no small amount of confusion. 

With more effort than it should have taken, he opened his eyes, only to see his knees. "Now what are they doing there?" he wondered, lifting a hand from where it had been hanging to scratch at the side of his face. 

When it finally occurred to Dwalin to look around, he discovered that he was hanging from his belt, off of a very tall statue (and if he had been looking from the right perspective, he would have seen that it looked like said statue was doing unspeakable things to him). A voice from down below called, "I see you're finally waking up." The face was that of one of the few elves he could recognize without effort, Legolas. And the elf looked like he was either in great pain, or was trying not to laugh. "Now, I can't say how it is that you got up there," he began, by which Dwalin assumed Legolas had something to do with it, "but I think you have been there long enough. Would you like to come down?" 

Dwalin twitched. The elf was a good several feet away, straight down. "Of course I want down!" He really wanted to say something rude, but didn't want to affect the chances if Legolas helping him out. 

Legolas tilted his head this way and that, as though gauging how he would go about it. "You're missing breakfast with your companions," the elf said, with a sly smirk. "One of the princes has elven braids this morning, I hear." 

Dwalin began to struggle at that, and after a moment heard something snap. He had all of a moment to appreciate the dawning look of horror on the elf's face before he fell. 

* * *

Kili had long since given up on getting the braids out, and had replaced that activity with questioning Haldir. "How did you know that the oil would work? Did you notice, it looks like my hair rubbed off on yours? It's darker at the ends! _Why_ must I keep the braids Mister Elf? Why does Merry keep looking at me funny? Huh, he's doing it to you too..." 

For his part, Haldir was indulging the questions with answers. "I had younger brothers. Yes, I noticed, that was because of the oil Merry brought back. Because if you don't, I'll shave your head. I wouldn't hazard a guess. I... Really?" Here they both turned to look at Merry, who chose that moment to stop looking. "Young Master Merry, is there a problem?" 

With a start, the hobbit blushed and stammered, and then _he ran away_. It was very unsportsmanlike of him, Kili noticed. "I think," he said, after Merry had gone to join his cousin on the other side of Fili, who still seemed a little dead, "he's, how do you say it, when you think you've seen something you shouldn't, then you can't get your mind off of it?" 

Haldir arched an eyebrow at him. "What are you talking about?" 

"When you sat on me," Kili said bluntly. "I'm sure it looked like something you wouldn't say in polite company." 

The eyebrow arched higher. And higher. Slowly, much to Kili's amusement, a flush bloomed across the elf's face. The eyebrow didn't drop back down, it just remained in that impressive arch. 

Kili began to snigger, and was elbowed by his brother, who groaned, "Why can't anyone shut up?" 

* * *

The hand was missing off of one of the statues next to the northern fountain, and Thranduil was suspicious that his son, or one of the dwarves had something to do with it. 

It mattered little. It would be fixed, one way or another, and Thranduil had more important things in mind. He would have the dwarf king present when he questioned the marchwarden, and those two halflings. Elrond had told Galadriel and him about halflings, and neither of them had believed him, having never seen such a thing. To be proven wrong was one thing, but that Galadriel had seen them and hadn't told him? That was hurtful. Then there was the way she had disappeared. It was possible that Haldir or the halflings knew what she was up to. 

And Thranduil wasn't going to let them sing "I don't know!" like the dwarf king!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still short.  
> Edit - there was another dwarf missing. Still is. *sigh*


	24. Queries and a Sneak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil learns some of what the Lady of the Golden Wood is up to. The other missing dwarf reappears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last one of the day. :)

The shorter one wasn't actually smaller, Thranduil decided, eyeing the halflings from his throne. The height difference was negligible. It was the stoutness (not so stout as a dwarf, but certainly Merry was a bit thicker around the waist than his cousin) of that one that brought Thranduil to that conclusion. Somehow, though they were in no way as thin as elves, the fact that they looked thin at all (and with the way he'd been told they eat!) didn't look healthy on them. He made note to have his cooks prepare more fattening foods, gravy and stews and buttered pheasant and the like. He wouldn't send them away empty-handed either, when they did leave (he had seen the lembas that they had finished their first day, and knew that Galadriel had given it to them), even if the dwarf king had lied about their destination. 

The marchwarden appeared resigned, either having been told by the dwarf king what this was about, or having expected it from the start. The halflings jostled each other, grinned and giggled without making a nod at approaching seriousness. The dwarf was pointedly not looking at the others in a way that made Thranduil wonder about last night's goings on. A worry, it seemed, for another time, he mused. 

Haldir was unlikely to break first, but etiquette begged that he speak to him before asking the halflings (as the dwarf was stubborn enough that he doubted he would get anything from him were he given a year, unless by trickery). "I expect that these are the ones who came to Lothlorien that you left with, Marchwarden Haldir," he said flatly, sounding as though he was on the verge of yawning. "It is rather suspicious that as soon as you left, so did Galadriel. If you could shed some light on the subject, I would be grateful." 

Behind Haldir, the taller halfling made an excited noise and bounced on his toes, whereas the other (Merry) promptly covered his mouth with one hand, hissing, "Our betters are speaking, Pip, calm yourself." 

The marchwarden smiled, shaking his head slightly. "I know not what Lady Galadriel does with her time," he said, placing one hand upping the head of the noisier halfling. "My duty is not to question, but to follow. I merely do as I was asked." The taller halfling muttered something unintelligible into the hand that covered his mouth. Haldir glanced down at him. "Is it important?" he asked. 

The halfling nodded, his green eyes woeful. Merry removed his hand, and he chirped, "I know where she's gone!" 

"Pippin!" cried the other, looking near scandalized. 

"She didn't make a secret of it," said Pippin. He turned again to Thranduil. "I don't know what she hopes to accomplish, but she's gone to Fangorn. I wouldn't expect to hear from her soon. Ents aren't hasty folk, like us. Anything they talk about will take quite some time." He turned to Haldir with a wicked little grin. "So if she's a little taller, and her hair has grown curly, next time you see her, you know where she's been." At that, both the halflings began to giggle. 

"Fangorn," murmured Thranduil. There was no guile in their words, no malice. They were simply amused as though... as though they had spent time amongst the Ents as well. "Whatever does she seek with Fangorn? Did you bring her news of the Ents?" he asked, leaning toward them. 

"Yes," muttered the shorter one, flinching away slightly. "And many other things, which she told us not to speak. Fangorn wasn't one of the things she didn't want us to talk about, though, I don't think. Pip?" 

"We shan't speak overmuch of our quest, except as needed," began Pippin. "But use her name when asking of help from the elves. We have Haldir here for that, though. It isn't that you shan't know, it's more that you shall know later - much later. That is all I know." 

"Me too," said Merry. 

"I am here for their sake," said Haldir. 

The dwarf king smirked. "I was right about Haldir," he said and Thranduil frowned. "That he would tell you no more that I could," he clarified. 

"I see," Thranduil responded dryly. "How much longer does your company need to recover before they can continue on?" It was a surprising turn in the conversation for them, he could see. They were obviously unaware that he could ask Galadriel directly (and since they had passed through Elrond's territory, he would speak to him as well). 

"No more than two days," the dwarf king stated, glancing at the others standing with him. His bearing had changed slightly, shedding that distracted look he had had as he desperately tried to avoid looking at them. "I would hate to ask..." he began. 

"Provisions are being prepared as we speak. You'll have to get ponies in Lake Town for the next leg of your journey, but there will be boats to take you there. And you two," he said, frowning at the halflings, "eat well while you can. I'll not suffer a guest to go hungry for long." Still scowling, he gestured for them to leave. 

* * *

Balin was shocked, to see his brother and the elf prince sneaking around together like children afraid to be caught by their elders. And well they should be, he thought, seeing that between them, they carried a large marble hand. 

Abstractly, he wondered just what he had missed at breakfast. Everyone he had seen had been acting so strangely! And when he says everyone, that's precisely what he means. Even Thorin was acting odd when he saw him. The only ones approaching normal were Dori and Ori, and Bombur and Bofur (Bifur didn't count because he was always a tad bit off). 

"In the fountain," cried Legolas, and Dwalin followed, probably carrying the greater part of the weight. 

Balin would be grateful, for once, to not be caught up in his brother's troubles. After performing a visual check on Dwalin's health (he had a cut on his scalp that he was bleeding from, but it was nothing too serious), Balin turned around and headed back for his room, sure he would hear about it later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking votes: How should I rename this monster?


	25. A Day Before Moving On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin gets a talkin' to, and Bofur has surprise!Backstory.

An armload of mixed cloth was thrust, rather suddenly, upon Thorin while he and Balin (the only other sensible person in the company) sorted out what they needed to continue. In the middle of, "We'll have to get ponies in Lake Town," Bilbo had come up, and before he had quite finished the sentence, his arms were full. The very end of it trailed off into a confused mutter, as the hobbit quickly turned and walked away, mumbling to himself. Thorin's eyes followed him, brows furrowed. What was that all about? 

"Well?" asked Balin, looking curious as well. "What is it?" 

It appeared to be... clothing. Thorin flicked out one item to find a very nice tunic made of quality, sturdy cloth, and stitched finely. The stitches were, he saw, the same fine stitches that graced the majority of his burglar's clothes. That more than implied that Bilbo had made it himself. 

There was a ruckus near the other end of the room as one of the younger hobbits said something culturally obscure and possibly rude, and Bilbo grabbed the both of them by their ears and dragged them as far away as he could and still remain in the same room. Still curious, he and Balin continued to watch the hobbits. 

After a moment of furious whispering, one of them exclaimed, "You still haven't told him! But that's..! Oww! Stop stop stop!" 

And now the elf, who had been minding his own business quite well up to that point, had begun watching them as well; avidly. Unlike Thorin, it was quickly apparent that whatever was being said, Haldir could hear every word, and what he was hearing was _very_ interesting. 

After a short spat of very intense looking arguing, Bilbo threw his hands in the air, releasing his cousins' ears, and stormed off in a very hobbit-y fashion, with one last backward yell of "Not that it's any of your business!" Pippin shortly followed after him, leaving Merry standing there, lips pursed and hands on his hips. 

"Leaving me to explain things, no doubt," he sighed loudly, looking right at Thorin. Merry walked over to where Thorin still stood beside Balin. Bofur sat only a few feet away, completely absorbed in the motion of his knife against wood as he carved (absorbed in memories, as he had been since Bilbo had initially approached). "As his family, only family as is here, other than Pip, who seems to have abandoned me to this task, custom falls to me to explain a few things," said the hobbit in a surprisingly stuffy tone. 

Explain, Merry did; he told Thorin more than he ever thought he might want to know about hobbits (and their older forms of courtship), and explained the significance of each and every thing he _knew_ Bilbo had done for Thorin. The latest item he had been given, Merry told him, was a declaration, of sorts ("I will have no other" is what it meant). 

Thorin had been suspicious of something of the sort, he just hadn't realized that Bilbo's feelings on the subject were so strong. Before Merry could continue in, to tell him the appropriate responses to such a declaration, and what they mean, Bofur spoke, in a dreamy tone, as though not addressing a single one of them. 

"I knew a hobbit lass once," he said, looking much the same as he had before, "who paid court to a dwarf in their old ways. I lived some time near Bree, and were she still alive, I would have not come along on this quest. Wouldn't mind living the way hobbits live," he sighed. He glanced up to see Balin, Thorin and Merry's eyes on him. "Maybe I should go and find some...where else to be." Bofur abruptly stood, and as he left, he sang quietly to himself "My Briar, she was a bonny fine lass, sweet as jam, she was..." shaking his head the whole way. 

Thorin couldn't say he had known that Bofur had _any_ dealings with hobbits, much less having married one (he had wondered, in a vague fashion, but wasn't about to outright ask, who Bofur's widower's braid had been for). 

Clearing his throat, Thorin asked, "How do I say to him 'isn't this rather sudden?'" 

* * *

Bofur's lass was a fine lass indeed. Some days, he wished he were the same as the elves, able to fade and return all the more quickly to their loved ones. 

The quest to reclaim Erebor was a madcap fantasy, he thought, and it was likely that anyone who joined Thorin in his madness would die for it. That would not be a bad way to go, to die in vain glory, and to see his lovely Briar again. (He wouldn't think of the fact that Merry and Pippin both more than implied that he would survive the coming battles; that could still change.) 

He had known, as soon as he had seen that woven band, just what Thorin meant to Bilbo Baggins - it wasn't his place to say as much, but he knew. 

And if, of all the dwarves in the company, he knew more about hobbits? So what? It would be cruel to have him dredge up painful memories for the curiosity of his kin. 

Sometimes, throughout all the painful bits of memory, he still felt something warm and sweet (instead of cold and empty) when he thought of her. For the moment, he would allow himself to be lost in memory; for all that their time together was short, it contained some of the happiest memories of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bofur insisted on sad backstory. This isn't my fault. He also insisted on *spoilerspoilerspoiler* when they *spoilerspoilerspoiler*. :) Just so as you all know in advance.
> 
> So far, votes say "Keep the name, we like it". :)


	26. Prophesy Respoken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil broods over hobbits' words, Pippin catches a fish, and the hobbits explain the prophesy to their friends. Haldir gains the beginnings of an obsession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ehr... It's been days and I have no excuse. Sorry folks!

The dwarves and hobbits and Galadriel's marchwarden all had left Thranduil's hall in the morning, via the river, and, as though in passing, the younger hobbits had spoken to Legolas in his father's presence. The words were Galadriel's, Thranduil did not doubt; for a prophesy of doom, it was couched in pretty words. 

_"Legolas Greenleaf long under the tree_   
_"In joy thou hast lived. Beware of the Sea!_   
_"If thou hearest the cry of the gull on the shore,_   
_"Thy heart shall then rest in the forest no more."_

Thranduil was troubled, in spite of their warnings thereafter: "Rare is the prophesy that means as it sounds." Wise words, he didn't doubt, and though the prophesy itself was Galadriel's words, that little warning they had tagged onto the end was not. 

Did she speak of his son's death? 

Yet, that was the obvious answer, wasn't it? By that, if the hobbits knew the truth of what they spoke, Legolas's death couldn't be what she warned of. 

Thranduil was troubled. 

* * *

It would not be for many days that he heard from those he had asked to keep an eye on the party that had gone down the river, and what he was told shocked him. The halflings _knew_ what the prophesy meant, and precisely. 

The reason they chose not to tell? 

Pity. Not for Legolas, who they had come to regard as a friend, but pity for Thranduil, his father, who would one day have to bear to be parted from his son. 

"For they said, 'Should he know what it means, he would seek his fate. For his father's sake, let him dread the sea for a little while longer. '" 

Still, Thranduil was troubled. 

* * *

Perhaps the most terrifying thing Haldir had had the misfortune of hearing was the phrase "I'm bored" coming from Pippin's lips. As fond as he was of the halflings, boredom was, on them, a dreadful prospect. If he were a little less sturdy, Haldir would quake at the very notion of the two hobbits being bored (just because Pippin said it didn't mean it didn't apply to Merry as well). 

It seemed for a time they were amusing themselves at Nori's expense, forcing the dwarf to empty his pockets in the search of potentially useful items. Upon finding what looked like a couple of cheap crystal beads, Merry made an excited sound, showing his find to his cousin, and then the pair left Nori to put everything back in his pockets as they came to Haldir, who asked, "What do you want?" 

"A couple strands of your very long hair, oh Haldir, please?" asked Pippin. 

"Of your very _strong_ hair, oh Haldir please?" mock-echoed Merry, with a grin. It quickly became obvious that they were willing to just sit and wait for him to give in to the strange demand. 

He plucked two strands from his head and held them out, frowning. "I give you what you ask for, instead of what you want." 

Twin looks of confusion crossed their faces, and Merry said, "But..." before Pippin covered his mouth with one hand, taking the hairs with the other. 

"Thank you, Mr. Haldir, sir," he said cheekily, and dragged his cousin away. 

Satisfied that they would keep themselves occupied for a while, Haldir set about refletching some of his arrows. Halfway between the second and the third, Kili came and sat with him to watch. The young dwarf clearly had no interest in learning how to man the boats, and while Haldir knew how, already, he was content to allow Thranduil's people to do it for the moment. It allowed him to occupy his mind with more important things, such as the halflings' safety, and refletching his arrows. 

The dwarf beside him made no move to say anything, and as vocal as Kili often was, this was strange for him, just watched him work. Cheered by the relative peace of the moment, Haldir continued to do so, getting six more arrows done before something went wrong. 

It started with the yell of "I've got one!" in Pippin's voice, and was followed with the sound of a mighty splash, as whatever the hobbit had pulled him overboard. That was when Merry began yelling, and Haldir watched him start to fall as well (his hand tangled with Pippin's belt) only to be grabbed by Nori's large, gnarled hands. 

Not desiring to leave his halflings' lives in the hands of the dwarf, no matter how capable he might be, Haldir abandoned his fletching to nearly dive off the end of the boat to pull back their missing member. 

Pippin came back, alright, just after whatever had been causing the water to roll so viscously stopped moving entirely. Haldir hoisted the hobbit from the water by his shirt, and in one hand he held his blade, while in the other... 

His left arm, from elbow down, was in the mouth of a great fish, with teeth an inch long, and how he wasn't howling in pain was anyone's guess. In fact, Haldir could see tiny hobbit fingers protruding from the monster's gills, and the mad halfling was laughing. "Did you see that?" he yelled, giving the fish a hearty shake. "Thank Galadriel for giving us decent armor!" 

They later decided that the fish, a river pike, was as heavy as Bombur, in full armor, and would feed the entire company, plus Thranduil's boatmen, for dinner and breakfast both. Pippin received many scoldings, and Thorin agreed with Haldir - Pippin was no longer allowed to fish. 

That night, as they bedded down, the two younger hobbits and the dwarf princes chose to sleep right next to Haldir (and as he didn't wish to become eaten by Kili's hair again, it was braided thoroughly). One of the princes asked about Galadriel's prophesy, while Haldir pretended to sleep. 

"First time we heard it was... uhm, second, third hand? Legolas was upset about it because he said that it was about his death, but then he came to Minas Tirith on a ship filled with... not saying that part... He came on a ship, and there were gulls everywhere, and carrion birds, so..." Pippin's voice trailed off. 

"What he's saying," said Merry, "is that Legolas wasn't to die, but his heart was to be taken. It was dreadful for him, I think, to come back on land after that. The sea seems so vast and beautiful, I can see why an elf might love it. But for me? It is too vast, and it shines beneath the sun in a way as to make one ever so thirsty. And you can't even drink it!" He sounded offended by that, and Haldir would have smiled, but the words had caught his imagination. 

They were all quiet for a moment, then Haldir spoke, in a wistful tone, "I should like to see it." _Some day,_ he thought and, "The thought of it fills me with a curious dread. Why didn't you tell him?" 

"We wouldn't have told him at all, but Galadriel thought we ought." Pippin sighed and rolled over, nudging Haldir in the hip. "Should he know what it means, he would seek his fate. For his father's sake, let him dread the sea for a little while longer." 

"For Thranduil?" asked Fili, sounding almost aghast. There was something to his voice that suggested that he contained his laughter. 

"If Legolas knew, he would be curious," Merry explained. "Curiosity is a dreadful thing, you know." Well, did Haldir know this. "And then he would seek his fate, knowing he would come to no ill. After that, he would never again be more than a guest in his father's house. Better that he go on to Valinor; there at least Thranduil would one day see him again and they would be together as family." 

"Let him dread. He will see it one day regardless," said Pippin, yawning. "As for me, I would sleep."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is going to be flashbacky in nature. Probably. A cracky previous happening wants to be written.


	27. I Spy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hobbits have games that dwarves never seem to win, there is a flashback that involves mushrooms, and Kili makes a bet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's cracky. :)

"I spy, with my little eye," began one of the hobbits, casting his eye around, looking for just the right object to use, "something... wet." 

Ori just about smacked his own face, remembering how this had gone last time. Bilbo shouted in response, from another boat, "Gloin's beard?!" 

"How'd you know?" 

Ori turned to Bofur and said, somewhat sullenly, "Did you ever notice, we dwarves always lose at hobbit games?" 

Bofur smiled and nodded in response, his cousin Bifur muttering something crude under his breath that would have turned the elf green had he understood it (there was no doubt that Haldir heard it, he just couldn't understand, and Ori was deeply grateful for this). "No reason not to play," said Bofur, with that same sweet smile that had Ori wondering what he was thinking about. 

There was a commotion, and suddenly Merry was squealing loudly, and it took several seconds for them to realize that he wasn't hurt. Kili was holding the hobbit upside down and tickling him. "That's an effective end for their game," muttered Haldir, shaking his head. The elf had always seemed a little strange to Ori, and since Pippin's Pike had been roasted the night before, he seemed to have gotten even stranger. There was a far away look in his eyes, and he looked to be more interested in what might be coming from the southwest, than any other direction, for that was where he often looked. 

Still, the hobbit game was on the top of Ori's mind, and he spent some time recollecting it. 

* * *

They had been on the edge of Mirkwood, and all were edgy as they left Beorn's ponies behind. Suddenly, one of the hobbits had said, in a tone that was far too cheerful, "I spy, with my little eye, something green." 

"Leaves," remarked the Pippin, elbowing Merry solidly for something Ori couldn't fathom. "I spy, with my little eye, something brown." 

"Leather," said Merry. 

"Nope, and that was quite broad of you, cousin." Pippin whistled as he walked until Merry spoke again. 

"Tree trunk?" It was an irritable mutter. 

"Okay," sighed Pippin. 

Merry chuckled and said, "I spy with my little eye... something... green." 

"More leaves?" asked Pippin. 

"However did you know?" asked Merry ginning widely. 

This continued on for some time, the dwarves occasionally joining in when they made a correct guess, and the game was eventually derailed when Merry said, "I spy, with my little eye, something... _mushrooms!_ " and Haldir managed to snatch each and every hobbit out of the air as they dove for the large, sparkling red mushrooms. 

"These aren't edible," said the elf. 

"I spy, with my little eye, something disappointing," said Pippin, dangling gracelessly from Haldir's elbow. 

"Is it the mushrooms?" asked Haldir. 

In stereo, the hobbits had all said, "Yes..." 

* * *

The game was a good way for them to amuse themselves, Ori supposed, and it was good to know that it would be stopped before it got too irritating. Haldir had proven, in the very first game he joined, that he was a mean player, picking objects that were out of everyone's eyesight and then stating, when they passed it twenty minutes later that they had done so, therefore he must pick again. The most obnoxious thing about it was that they dragged others into playing as well. Still, if Ori were playing, he would prefer not to play against Haldir. 

Haldir was paying little heed, for once, to what his hobbits were up to. He appeared deep in thought, if not asleep, and the only thing giving him away as awake was the slow, steady movement of his hands over his arrows. A well cared for weapon will rarely fail, Ori remembered, and Haldir paid a careful sort of attention to his. 

It made him very boring to watch, and the other elves weren't being all that interesting either. Ori rather wished that Prince Legolas had come along, in spite of the weird message the hobbits had had for him. He was the only entertaining elf they had met so far. 

Close by, Ori heard Kili whispering, loudly. "I bet, I could make both you and him blush in one action," he said, and when Ori turned, he saw that Kili was talking to a skeptical Merry. "I won't do it on the boat, 'cause he'll throw me overboard, but I bet!" 

With a belligerent tilt to his chin, Merry challenged, "What do you bet?" 

The younger prince looked thoughtful. He didn't seem to notice the look that Haldir shot in his direction (proving like nothing else could that he wasn't sleeping), and just stood there, jiggling his leg in place as he thought. "I have no idea," he admitted after a moment. "What do you think?" 

"I think you couldn't make him blush at all," said Merry, and a sly look crossed Kili's face. Merry rolled his eyes. "Fine, terms... You, in elven braids until we get where we're going." 

"Oooh, tough," Kili smirked. "Too bad I already know you're going to lose, and badly. When you lose... Ugh, why can't I think of anything? I mean, I can think of things, but they aren't very... Ugh." Then he lit up, and pulled Merry close, to whisper what he wanted in Merry's ear. To Ori's amusement, the hobbit turned bright red, and Haldir, who wasn't even pretending not to listen, nearly fell from his seat. "Of course, if he's as unflappable as you think he is, there's no problem, right?" 

The poor hobbit spluttered for a minute and said, "It's not that it's a problem, it's just so... I don't know... sudden! Why of all things..?" He shook his head, and Ori supposed that he was doomed not to know. At least not until Kili won his bet (not that he believed Kili was going to win, but it certainly seemed like _he_ thought he was). 

Either way, they had something fun to look forward to when they next stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Spy is just about the most obnoxious game ever. Can you imagine traveling with these guys?


	28. On the Way to Lake Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bet is fulfilled, and the sanctity of an elf has supposedly been impinged. Who rules the Shire, and just what does a Thain do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't even apologize for this, except for how long it took for it to come out.

Haldir had never smelled the salt of the sea in the air, never heard the eerie cry of a gull; he had never seen such a broad expanse of water that the moon made it move. Lake Town was still half a day away (they would be there by nightfall), and Haldir had heard of the immensity the Long Lake. It wasn't as large as Sarn Gebir, but it was still immense (and Haldir knew that seeing it would do nothing for that dreadful longing that the talk of the sea had awoken in him). 

One would think that his desire to see that which could steal the heart of a wood elf from Yavanna meant that he should like to go even further, and see Valinor, and his ancestors. While this was true, to an extent, he suspected that he would be content with the sea itself. It wouldn't be time to go to Valinor for quite some time yet, not for Haldir. 

For this very moment, however, he found himself content enough to listen to the dwarves and their occasional bouts of song and laughter; content to watch as one hobbit made overtures toward the dwarven king that weren't all that clear, but were starting to be met in the peculiar manner of dwarves. He supposed that he wouldn't interfere, though _his_ hobbits were getting occasionally too close to the two princes (and he would have to say something, eventually, about the line of Durin being a bunch of pervy hobbit fanciers, even if it got one of the dwarves to punch him), and Merry was starting to act stranger than usual (sputtering out that odd explicative of his, "Lawks!" when Haldir startled him). 

Lunch was a quiet affair, usually, and Haldir often took the time to examine his companions more thoroughly, or just think on things that have changed in his life. At this moment, he was wondering just what "Lawks" actually meant, as Kili dragged Merry toward him with an arm slung over the hobbit's shoulder. "Don't worry," the dwarf was saying, with a cheeky grin that said the opposite of what was coming out of his mouth. "It won't take but a moment, and then when we get to Lake Town, you can help me out." 

"I still think you're underestimating Haldir," Merry said, sounding a bit waspish. 

"And I still say you're overestimating him." The dwarf laughed as they approached, and Haldir was immediately suspicious. He was quite aware of their little bet, and he could think of dozens of things Kili could do that would fulfill the terms quite easily (the hobbit was easily discombobulated, and Haldir wasn't quite feeling like himself). That said, he had no idea what Kili was planning, and when he came up to where Haldir sat, Merry's shoulders still firmly held beneath one arm, Haldir really wished he had an idea what the young prince was up to. "A moment of your time, Haldir, if you would," said Kili, with that same cheeky grin creasing his face, and the dwarf leaned forward, tangling his free hand in Haldir's hair to pull him up just half an inch... 

Kissing back was purely reflexive, as Haldir contemplated this new development. It didn't stop the flush from forming, or the warmth from bursting in his veins, but it did give him something to occupy himself with, for all of a moment, until with a curious sweep of the tongue, Kili released both Haldir and Merry. His face was heated to a brilliant shade of pink, and with his peripheral vision, he could see Merry was in a similarly stunned and flushed state. 

"I win," said the prince, and still grinning broadly, hopped off to go and pester someone else. 

Haldir supposed that that had been an excellent distraction. He couldn't bring himself to look directly at Merry, though. So he stood, deciding to head back to the boats and make himself useful. 

* * *

Bilbo found Merry, ten minutes later, still sitting in the same spot, his face a fading pink, and his eyes glassy. Even as he watched, debating whether he should bother his cousin, Merry swallowed sharply and the receding blush returned. If Bilbo didn't know any better, he would say that Merry looked more than a little distressed. 

"Are you alright?" he asked, gently as he could manage (as a Baggins, that was pretty gentle). 

"I just saw Kili violate Haldir," said Merry, turning his confusion on Bilbo. 

"Okay," Bilbo drawled, eyebrows raised. "And?" he prompted. 

As though he had been splashed with cold water, the other hobbit abruptly stood up, eyes wide and hands flapping furiously. "I need to go check on Haldir!" he blurted, and rushed away. 

Bilbo stood in bemused silence for a long moment, before turning around and heading in the direction he had last seen Thorin. Once the king was in sight he stated, "You've got to do something about your nephews." He liked to think that he put just enough "parental disapproval" into the tone. 

"I cannot do anything about Fili's interest in your cousin," Thorin said, tightening straps on what looked to be Bilbo's pack. 

He figured that he had better not say as much. "I meant the other one. Merry says Kili's violated our elf." 

Thorin stopped what he was doing to stare at Bilbo. His mouth opened, like he meant to say something, but instead he shook his head and returned to what he had been doing. "I'm afraid I have little control over their behavior," he admitted. "Are you sure of this?" 

"I have no idea," said Bilbo, reaching around to help. "I just think that we need to start paying more attention to what they get up to. I mean, I saw Haldir earlier, and he seemed well enough..." 

"And that is all that matters, believe me," said Thorin, effectively ending the conversation. 

It turned out that Haldir was just fine, and Kili's violation was no more than a kiss (which the elf had, apparently, returned, before his mind caught up with his body, much to the amusement of those who heard), and Merry's squawking was just that - squawking. 

It did seem to be one of those days that Bilbo needed to pay more attention on, though, as somehow, hobbit politics became the topic of discussion during the last leg of the journey. No one wanted to talk about elven politics, and the curiosity of thirteen dwarves outweighed that of three hobbits (and an elf - the boatmen didn't count). 

Pippin tried, exasperatedly, to explain that the Thain wasn't a king, when Merry mentioned, in an offhand manner (one that suggested that it was a calculated move), that Pippin was the Thain's heir in their time (and that was something that hadn't occurred to Bilbo). "He's not a king, though. He's more like the Steward of Gondor - he holds stewardship of the lands until the return of the king. He doesn't really do all that much. While he's the head of our Shirrifs, there's only twelve hobbits for those duties in the entirety of the Shire! Three for each farthing, and they deal more with straying animals than straying hobbits - and the occasional drunk. As the Mayor of Michel Delving takes care of all the day to day business of running the Shire, the Thain actually has a very boring job." 

"Aye," laughed Merry. "So boring that your mother was teaching you how to make tinctures and tonics and the like, to save you from boredom later in life." 

"You know medicine?" asked Oin, surprised. Honestly, Bilbo was surprised too, as Pippin made no move to make any medicines as they traveled. 

"Yes," Pippin replied, hesitantly. "I don't well know the herbs out here though, and it seems to me that every time I learn enough about an area to be useful, we move on! I know best the herbs of the Shire, and how to use them, but I did learn a bit from the books in Rivendale and Lothlorien." 

Oin had a calculating look in his eyes at this point. "Were you just an apprentice?" he asked. 

"He was just out of his apprenticeship, else he'd have stayed home," said Merry, dragging his hand in the water for a moment. As though recalling Pippin's Pike, he pulled it out quickly. "I should like to think so, anyway." 

"And you know better," said Pippin. Shifting in the boat to look into the water, he said, "Supposed to reach Lake Town by evening, aren't we? Don't remember it taking so long in the stories." 

"Because we aren't in barrels," Merry told him, rolling his eyes. The hobbit rubbed his jaw in a thoughtful manner before pulling Pippin away from the edge of the boat. "Don't want Haldir to have to fish you out again, now do we?" 

Pippin grumbled but acquiesced, and like Bilbo had some time previous (having grown bored with the discussion), he laid himself down for a nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dwarves are now convinced that Pippin is hobbit-royalty. :D This may or may not affect anything.
> 
> Bonus: My rubber wall wants to challenge my readers! I need five words or phrases (nothin too cracky please) that you want to come out of the hobbits' mouths. I will save down the ones I like, and use them as the fic progresses. :3


	29. Evening in Lake Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lake Town is reached, and the hobbits tell a hobbit fairy tale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fairy tale is The Last Unicorn - if you haven't seen it, go watch it. It's marvelously done, and it really is a lovely story, with beautiful music. :)

They reached Lake Town earlier than expected, as there was still a couple hours of light left in the sky. The town wasn't even close to small (as the word "town" implied). Bilbo was quickly overwhelmed with the utter density of it - the towns of Men, he saw, were not very pleasant places. It was big, it smelled bad, and suddenly, Bilbo found that he just wanted to go home. 

He was glad to see that he wasn't alone in his disgust. Haldir's nose wrinkled finely at the scents that assaulted them, but made no other indication of his distaste. As though in response to Bilbo's distress, he patted the hobbit on the shoulder and said, "It may not be a comfort, but one does grow accustomed to it." 

Bilbo didn't want to grow accustomed to it, but saw he had little choice. His cousins, on the other hand, after making a few faces when the came within smelling distance of the town, seemed to completely ignore it. _They had been to the cities of Men, they said. I should rather think that a city would smell worse than a town._ He had no way of knowing the truth of it, without asking, and didn't really want to make a noise and offend their hosts. 

For all he knew, Merry and Pippin were discussing, at this very moment, the stinkiness of the various settlements they had been to. He caught Merry saying something about not being able to escape the smell of horse ("Not a bad smell," he said, "just pervasive; everything smelled like horse!"), to the extent that he forgot about it, and considered himself proven right. 

Not knowing what else to do, Bilbo idled at the mooring, fiddling with the catches on his pack. He wasn't alone at it, but Haldir told him that it would "stink a bit less in the town proper". After that, the elf disappeared, and shortly after that, so did Thranduil's boatmen, heading back up the river. 

It would be safest, he decided, to latch onto a dwarf, so he eyed those that were still present (notably, Thorin was already missing). Dori was too intimidating, he thought. Nori was, for lack of a better phrase, not socially acceptable. Ori didn't look like he could handle himself (although he had already proven he could; in a fight, at least), and that left him with Dwalin, who would likely wonder why the hobbit had chosen to follow him so closely. 

Dwalin was also the most likely to lead him back to Thorin, so as soon as the burly, tattooed dwarf left the water, Bilbo was right on his heels. The dwarf paused several times to glare at Bilbo's determined face, but didn't say a word about it, until they came upon the inn at which they (this mysterious "they" was probably Thorin and Balin; maybe Haldir, who Thorin had taken to actually listening to at some point) had chosen to spend the night. 

Haldir was missing (and no one bothered to point out that he could easily care for himself) and so was Merry (on some errand for Kili, supposedly), as were Fili and Pippin (which no one wanted to comment on, except in Thorin's presence, as it was quickly becoming noticed that he wanted to know nothing of his nephews' endeavors). So, other than an elf, a prince, and a pair of hobbits, everyone was accounted for. 

Overhearing Dwalin's comment about Pippin, Bilbo found himself defending his cousin, "I'm sure he'd look lovely in a dress!" He suspected that, on second thought, when everyone in earshot began to laugh in the uproarious manner of dwarves and Men, Pippin probably wouldn't appreciate that kind of defense. 

Dwalin pounded his shoulder and passed him a mug of ale that was as big as the dwarf's head. "Ye aren't that bad after all, are you?" he said, giving Bilbo an extra-hard pound in the same spot (possibly in hopes that he would collapse into a broken heap). 

The ale was cheap and plentiful, like Lobelia's perfume, and left behind a similarly acrid taste in the mouth. "Lovely," he murmured, and drank up. The alcohol content had to be high, for anyone to suffer this brew for long. 

It was over an hour later that Bilbo, in a vague, drunken haze, heard the voices of his cousins raised in song, and he joined them just in time for the first chorus. 

_"Downsides went up- hey!_  
 _"Outsides went wide._  
 _"As the fiddle_  
 _"Played a twiddle_  
 _"And the Moon slept till Sterrenday._  
 _"Upsides went west- hey!_  
 _"Broadsides went boom._  
 _"With a twiddle on the fiddle_  
 _"In the middle by the griddle_  
 _"And the Moon slept till Sterrenday."_

For a good share of the rest of the night, he didn't remember a thing. 

* * *

"It seems to me," said Pippin, long after the singing and dancing had gotten out of their systems, "that Mister King Thorin looks a bit strangely like our cousin Frodo." He grinned loosely around the rim of his mug, and muttered in that delighted tone that Merry knew all too well, "Pints!" and he giggled. 

Merry would like to deny what Pippin said, but now that it had been pointed out to him... Thorin did look just a bit like Frodo - older, yes, and definitely hairier, and then there were all those dwarven features to sort through, so really, they didn't look that alike, but the coloring was right. Pippin wasn't just imagining it. "Just don't do like you did in Bree," he muttered. 

"No one here wants to hear hobbit genealogy," said Pippin, sticking his nose into his mug. 

Nearby sat a huge man, not as large as Beorn, but still quite large, and he said, with an engaging grin, "We mayn't care for your genealogies, but do halflings have any grand tales? You might find yourselves with an audience if you do. For we have heard the tales of elves and dwarves, and those of our own folks, but I've never even heard of your people, so I am certain I've never heard your stories." 

"What kind of story?" asked Merry. 

"Of a quest, or an adventure," said the man. "That makes up the best of tales." 

"Hobbit stories," snorted Pippin, "about an adventure? Well, now, it's a good thing I'm a Took, isn't it?" 

"Do you know any adventures that aren't of Bilbo's stories?" Merry asked, slyly. "Of course!" cried Pippin. "My sisters pestered mother for it, every evening when I was small!" This got laughter from the men nearby, who didn't know that Pippin (like Merry) was uncommonly large for a hobbit. "Laugh all you want." 

"The one about the unicorn and the red bull?" Merry chuckled. He remembered well enough how Pippin's closest sister had begged Auntie Egg to tell that story, over and over. 

As the men continued to laugh, Pippin said, "It's a good story, even if I heard it often enough as a fauntling. Now, how do we start?" 

Merry took that as his cue. "In an ancient forest, there dwelt a most ancient thing; she was wise and she was beautiful, and she knew her woods, through and through. The wood was forever in springtime, and the animals there, in the magic of her presence, had grown fey and canny, in a manner wild things aren't known for..." 

"One day," said Pippin, continuing where Merry had paused, "a group of hunters passed into the edge of her wood, and she overheard them talking, and they mentioned her by name: 'There's a unicorn in these woods,' said one of the hunters. 'We won't be catching naught here...' And so they left, but before the last had gone, he said, in hopes that she would hear him, 'Stay in your woods, unicorn. If you leave, I fear you'll disappear, for you may very well be the last of your kind.' And then he rode away." 

"'The last?'" said Merry. "'How could I be the last?' wondered the unicorn. 'There are many of my kind! Tell me, butterfly,' she said to a bright winged wanderer settling on a flower nearby. 'Do you know me?'" 

"The butterfly sang," said Pippin. "He sang of a name so sweet that he couldn't speak it, and when she asked again, he sung of other things, and she asked again, and he continued to sing nonsense." 

Merry continued with, "'I should have known better,' said she, 'than to expect much of a butterfly.'" 

"Of course," said Pippin, "that was when he began to speak sense, quoting 'unicorn' by definition, so she asked had he seen others, and asked and asked until he said solemnly, 'They covered all roads to the west, and the Red Bull came close behind them, covering their tracks so no one could follow them.' And then he fell back into singing his nonsense, and as she followed close behind him, he drifted lazily into the sky, not heeding her cries, just singing to himself." 

The men sat quietly, waiting in anticipation for what was to follow. Merry continued again, "And so she set out, for the desire to know had been stirred in her immortal heart, and long it would it be before she again saw her wood..." 

* * *

The story was a long one, and Bilbo had joined them in the telling ere they got too far in. They told of the unicorn's capture by an evil witch, of her subsequent escape with the help of a traveling magician, of the bandit woman who joined them, and of the old king in his crumbling castle. 

They told of how the unicorn, to be saved from the Red Bull, was turned into a woman, and how later the son of the king fell in love with the woman that had been the unicorn. It seemed like hours had been lost in the telling, before the tale reached its tragic ending - the unicorn, once again her proper self, and the prince, separated by what they were. In the end, the unicorn had been changed, and was the only one of her kind to know love and regret. 

"That's it?" asked one of the listeners. 

"That's it," agreed Pippin, sipping at the remainder of his ale. "She went back to her wood, he became king, and the magician and the bandit woman married or something, and went off together. Not all tales end well, and love doesn't cure everything. They would have been happier, if they hadn't fallen in love." 

"Any other ending wouldn't suit," said Haldir, and the hobbits twitched, not having realized that he had been listening. "It has a sound that echoes many an elven tragedy." He paused, as though unsure of what to say next. "It is very distinct on its own. That she became a unicorn again, in the end, proves that it isn't one of our tales." 

Pippin coughed, uncomfortable, and Merry pointed out, "Not every great story came from the Eldar races, you know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Courtesy of Iron - "He'd look lovely in a dress."
> 
> Courtesy of devil_wears_winchester -  
> Pippin points out that Frodo has Thorin's coloring
> 
> Courtesy of rubber_wall (where I check to see if ideas are al dente) - The Last Unicorn
> 
> Keep 'em coming! I'll let you know when it gets to be too many! :D


	30. Spiders! (redux)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pippin finds something strange, and Merry needs to shave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know. I really don't. :D
> 
> Mild language warning. :)

Admittedly, Pippin was a bit hungover, but after wetting his throat with ale (and something stronger, courtesy of Oin's flask) through such a long tale, it wasn't even a bit of a surprise. His mouth was dry, his eyes were itchy, and he was in dire need of honey. _Honey,_ he thought, _can cure most ills._ "If not honey," he muttered, "perhaps honeysuckle?" There were flowers overhead, vines carefully entwined with a tall trellis, and they looked very well cared for. He suspected that should he try to eat them, someone would come after him with a broom. It wasn't a pleasant thought. 

Lake Town wasn't all that bad, once one got away from the water (and once the people stopped tripping over him like he was a child). It was a grim sort of place; too close to the Lonely Mountain for comfort, Pippin supposed, and too close to the wood that had become Mirkwood. It may not have been so bad before it gained its current name. Greenwood the Great sounded so much better, as did Lothlorien's old name - Laurelindórinan (Land of the Valley of Singing Gold). The elves had such lovely names for things. Though he doubted that the elves were the ones to call the Greenwood by that name - like as not, that name had come from the Men of the Lake. 

In the cool of the morning, there were few people rushing about, and Pippin was left to wander as he pleased. After an indeterminate time, Fili joined him, and they explored the town in companionable silence. In the market, there was a spice stall, and he perused its wares for a time. "Cinnamon, cardamom, cloves," he paused to sniff at something, and added, "curry," releasing the pinch of yellow powder back into its container. "A veritable plethora of spices, and no where I can take them. If we get through this unscathed, I'm coming right back here and buying out the stall... Oh, tea!" And he turned abruptly, leaving Fili beneath the disapproving eye of the spice merchant. 

With an armload of small but useful items, they left the market to continue exploring Lake Town. Seeing something (and hoping it wasn't what it looked like) down an alley, Pippin stopped, waiting for Fili to catch up with him. The dwarf's broad frame did him few favors, moving through crowds, and if Pippin weren't busy, he'd point that out. As it was... 

"What is it?" asked Fili, having long ago learned that hobbit eyes were much sharper than those of dwarves. 

"I dunno," he replied pensively, eying the thing tucked into the back corner of the alley. "I don't like to be one to call false alarms, but that looks like it very well could be a spider, of the Mirkwood variety." 

Fili didn't know quite what to say to that, so he tried to determine, from where they were, whether or not Pippin's hesitant supposition was correct. It _looked_ like it could be a spider, but if it was, it was a brown color, unlike the spiders of Mirkwood. Neither of them wanted to go in and check (they would feel silly if it turned out to be nothing), but they couldn't just leave it, because Pippin might not be wrong. 

After a time, a man came up and asked what they were looking at, and Fili replied, tersely, "Spider," while Pippin said, "Possibly biggest spider I've ever seen." 

The man scoffed, and entered the alley himself, saying, "I'll kill your 'giant' spider for you," in the most patronizing tone Pippin had ever heard. Exactly five seconds later, he came running back, screaming, "Augh! Spawn of Ungoliant!!!" 

From within the alley came an unearthly shriek, "Biiiiitch! My webs! Now I shall have to respin them! Vile doer of misdeeds, I have only just finished them!" 

Pursing his lips, Pippin said, "So, I was right?" Fili shrugged, and as the spider finally showed itself, waving its forelegs angrily, he drew one of his swords. 

The spider cursed some more, and then said, "He got away. I was just going to make him pay damages!" It looked at them (at least it seemed to) and asked, "Do you know how I might contact law enforcement about a breaking and entering?" 

* * *

The spider, having been deemed both friendly and harmless (by Haldir, who had passed by at the right moment) was sent up the river to Thranduil, to avoid further misunderstandings, and, ignoring Fili, the elf had glared at Pippin and said, "Orcs that walk in the day?" Pippin nodded. "Intelligent trolls?" He nodded again, eyes growing wide and dewy. "Ents? And this Tom Bombadil character?" Pippin continued to nod. "I'm not saying I believe all your tales," said the elf, "but I am beginning to see that you attract these things. Come now, she said that there were other spiders, and they were of the like found in the forest. Best we take care of that before it becomes a problem." 

The rest of the morning was spent in clean-up. And Pippin missed both second breakfast and elevensies. 

* * *

At the inn, Merry attempted, and failed, to find his situation amusing. After the initial shock and embarrassment wore off, he found that the tasks Kili set him to were less than enthralling. "I still can't see why you want to make so much of it," he complained, stirring the mixture and frowning. "This will be enough to fill one of those wine barrels, and where did you find that caldron?" 

Kili snorted. "The shear quantity should be taken as encouragement, right?" he asked, flashing Merry that grin of his (the one that was starting to make Merry's guts quiver pleasantly - what was wrong with him, anyway?) and dripping some sort of herb scented liquid into the mix. 

This was all Kili's fault, Merry decided, sullenly. If he hadn't kissed Haldir like that, so close to Merry's face and he remembered, he could feel their breath, he'd been so close, so he had been able to tell when Haldir's breath sped up and... He shook his head. It started before that, he was aware. Maybe it started when he woke up with the two of them fighting (kind of) on top of him. Either way, it was still Kili's fault. 

"Woe is me," he grumbled, with a roll of his eyes. His hand, slightly slick with Kili's concoction, strayed to his jaw again, and he rubbed the skin there, thinking. It was getting just a bit rough, and this stuff the prince was making him help with would make a decent emollient. "I need to shave," he sighed, ignoring the way Kili's head swiveled around toward him. 

"I thought hobbits didn't grow beards," he said, in an accusing tone. Well he might, Merry supposed. Kili was rather sadly lacking in facial hair, for a dwarf. The concept of shaving might actually be offensive to the dwarves. 

Yet another thing that he maybe should have asked Gimli about, at some point. "'Tis the Stoor blood, I fear," he said, with a faint smile. "We don't usually have them, 'tis true, but it has been a bane to me since my early tweens." He almost giggled over the look on Kili's face. "You wouldn't happen to have a razor handy, would you?" 

The prince sputtered, and after attempting to give voice to how utterly offended he was, eventually decided that the best substitute was to throw things. "Hobbits, hobbits, hobbits!" he yelled, and Merry utterly failed to contain his laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Courtesy of madamepenguin - honeysuckle, cinnamon, plethora (sorry I didn't get them all in this part, like I had planned)
> 
> Courtesy of rubber_wall (where I check to see if ideas are al dente) - Giant Friendly Talking Spider (kudos to those of you who get this)
> 
> Keep them coming! I am still willing to take them, and if yours hasn't shown yet, never fear!


	31. A Quiet Day (kind of)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The product of Merry and Kili's labors is revealed, and Haldir spends a quiet afternoon contemplating hobbits (and one in particular), before learning of something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for crack. I have no excuse. Again.

A great, jaw-popping yawn escaped Pippin as he pushed open the door of the inn, intending to check up on everyone and then going to get some rest. The previous night had been long, and again full of talk; this time it was just Pippin and Fili, though, telling each other the tales their peoples told, surrounding the constellations. He stopped in the threshold, frowning at the frozen tableau that made up the common room. He might have been reassured if the first words spoken to him weren't "I swear, I had nothing to do with it," coming out of Merry's mouth, with that grin that had gotten the two of them caught and in trouble oh so many times since Pippin was a teen. 

"Don't lie," Pippin said automatically, studying the scene before him as Fili came up behind him (looking nearly as disheveled and worn as Pippin). There was a barrel, cracked and leaking, near the door, a splatter of its sweet smelling contents on the wall. Opposite the door stood Thorin, flushed (possibly angry, but more like vexed, as though the entire world was trying to upset him), and in the beginning stages of mortification - a state Pippin recognized well, though it had usually been on hobbit faces that he had seen it in the past. Next to Thorin stood Kili, with a look somewhere between shock and hilarity. Bilbo, and the rest of the dwarves, looked confused, but Haldir shook his head like he was the only adult in the company of over a dozen fauntlings. 

Pippin swiped his fingers through the stuff that dripped its slow way down the wall, smelling it and testing its texture between his thumb and forefinger. Merry cheerfully interrupted his contemplation of the stuff with, "It makes a mighty fine emollient," to which Kili nearly gnashed his teeth. 

Behind Pippin, Fili began to chuckle. Pippin continued to rub his fingers together. The stuff was very slick, and staying that way. "Even during my apprenticeship," he said, frowning bemusedly, "I have never seen such a large quantity of sexual lubricant." 

Confusion was replaced with dawning realization, and the various dwarves were torn between laughter, horror, or horrified laughter. Bilbo gaped. "You didn't!" he said shrilly, shaking his hand at Kili. For a moment, it looked as though they were going to have to protect Kili from Bilbo (whose color had gone from red to white to red again). Gritting his teeth, he announced that Kili was now in charge of garnering funds for the next leg of their journey; he was to do so by selling the lubricant. 

Thorin didn't protest, and the rest of the company was impressed with the punishment - with the notable exception of Kili, who grinned and bore it. 

* * *

Haldir had a hobbit related headache. Many were the reasons behind it, not the least if which was the astonishingly high pitch Bilbo's voice could reach. Of course, a certain dwarf prince was the cause of _that_ particular incident. 

Now that he thought on it, that dwarf was growing to be just as much of a headache as the hobbits. Pippin was still the largest source of his headaches, but that had dimmed a bit once the youngest halfling had taken up with the elder prince. It only suited that the younger one would take up where Pippin left off. 

A smirk crossed Haldir's lips at the thought. It was true enough. Kili was doing his level best to drive both Haldir and Merry (who was a comparatively quiet hobbit) mad. 

He would seek the relative ease of Merry's company (knowing that Pippin was asleep, therefore unlikely to find further trouble for the moment), but Haldir found himself questioning his own reasoning to do so. 

Soft lips and the faintest tickle of the fine hairs on Kili's chin... but it was likely that Merry's lips would be softer still, and unlike the heavy, musky scent of the dwarf (pleasant in its own way), Merry smelled of sweet spices and smoke. Even with Kili's lips on his, Haldir could almost taste the smoke on Merry's skin, in his hair. 

He huffed silently in frustration, and as he glanced up, accidentally caught Merry's mischievous grey eyes. For the moment, all was quiet, though that rarely seemed to mean much with this company. There was a flash of teeth as the hobbit grinned, then Merry turned away, placing the stem of his pipe, which he had taken from his mouth for just a second, back between his lips. 

Hobbits were frustrating. 

Especially Merry, who was currently doing nothing to warrant such thoughts. 

Soft, pliant, little Merry (and Haldir's fingers itched to feel that soft give of flesh under them again, as Merry trustingly allowed him to move his supple form as he wished), who looked at both Kili and Haldir with a healthy mix of shame and lust. 

_He looked at_ both _of us like that,_ thought Haldir. Both _of us, and I know how often I've thought of both of them._ He highly suspected something similar of Kili's deviant little mind as well. His smirk returned, and he knew that it made him look smug, but he couldn't really help it. 

He glanced at Merry again, only to find the halfling arching an eyebrow at him in a fair imitation of one of Haldir's own expressions. It was an open invitation to share his thoughts, but Haldir declined, shaking his head and allowing the smirk to broaden. 

Merry snorted a great puff of smoke and rolled his eyes. Then, apparently to amuse himself, the hobbit blew smoke rings at him. Big ones, small ones, all aimed right for Haldir's face. "You look like you want to say something," said Merry, giving up on the rings for a moment, and attempting various other shapes (mostly without success). 

Apropos of nothing, Haldir asked, "The story the other night: Where did it come from?" 

"Story?" echoed Merry, letting his pipe slip from his mouth as he thought for a moment. "The tale about the unicorn, you mean? It's an old Took story. Probably come from the same place as all their faery lore." 

"Faery lore?" asked Haldir, skeptical. 

"Faery lore," Merry confirmed. "Legend has it one of the Tooks, way back when, took a faery bride." 

He waited for Merry to continue, and when he didn't, he prompted, "And?" 

The hobbit shrugged. "That's it. It's a fauntling's tale," he said. "I forget most of it. Pip remembers more of that kind of stuff. His head is full of it." 

"She gave up her wings," said a new voice, and Haldir wasn't surprised to see Bilbo coming down to sit with them. "I always thought it was an euphemism for immortality, and that she wasn't really a fae, but an elf." 

"And yet, in all the places I've gone," said Merry, "no other people has had stories of the fae. Between me and Pippin, we've walked the breadth of Middle Earth and haven't heard any." 

"Really?" asked Bilbo, mildly surprised. "None at all? Ah, you wouldn't, perchance, have an extra pipe and weed?" 

"Usually Pippin carries an extra," said Merry, shrugging. "I have plenty of weed though. If you don't mind, you can share mine 'til he wakes up." He casually offered the older hobbit his pipe. Bilbo took it with a grateful smile. "And no, none at all. Only the king of Rohan even recognized what _we_ were. He certainly didn't know anything of our legends." 

Haldir had never heard of fae, either, in his long life, but it was possible that it was a word he knew in another form. "Do you have other words for it?" 

"Uhm... Just fae, or faeries. There's different kinds, but those are the general terms." Merry scratched his head and accepted his pipe back from Bilbo. "Oh! Tuatha Dé Danann! That's the proper name! The Children of Danu!" 

Nope. It didn't sound familiar at all. Without thinking about it, he accepted the pipe when Merry handed it to him. Haldir held it to his mouth and sucked at the end like he had seen Merry do. Having never smoked before, the first breath choked him, and he coughed, handing the pipe back. "Why do you do that?" he asked, making a face. The smoke smelled alright, but that was no reason to inhale it like that. 

"It's an acquired taste," said Bilbo with an amused quirk to his lips as he took the pipe again. 

That implied that Haldir's initial reaction was a common one. _Why ever would anyone try it a second time?_ he wondered. Next time it was offered, he tried again, just to see. It still burned his throat but... No, it wasn't as bad the second time. Perhaps it was one of those things that grew enjoyable the more it was done? After all, he had seen some of the dwarves do it as well - not that dwarves often did things that elves found enjoyable. 

It was like that that the rest of the party found them, still sharing the pipe as Haldir let himself grow accustomed to the strange burn of it. Other than the rawness it left in his throat, it really wasn't that bad. 

He still wondered about hobbits (and was still frustrated by them), but considered that that may be an occupational hazard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Courtesy of rubber_wall (where I check to see if ideas are al dente) - "sexual lubricant"
> 
> Also, I suspect I have enough of these for the moment. Watch out for the challenge to come again!


	32. Final Night in Lake Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merry mopes and finds himself in an interesting situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is one to blame for this section, I swear it. ;) It isn't me.

When asked, Pippin had been all too happy to hand over his extra pipe, and even volunteered to carve another, so that Haldir could have one too. Merry put a quick stop to that. It wasn't that Pippin's carving skills were lacking, but... Well, Haldir wasn't likely to want one anyway, was he? And if he did, Merry would be happy to carve it for him. 

Thankfully, Pippin didn't question Merry's reasoning, though he did give him this smug look like he knew something Merry didn't. Merry _hated_ it when his cousin made that face. 

The languid afternoon passed into evening, and once the duties of the morrow were decided, namely who was going to get the ponies, everyone settled in to drink. The awful ale made its rounds again, and shortly Merry found that he and Pippin were singing again. 

_"Oh, you can search far an' wide,_  
 _"You can drink the whole town dry,_  
 _"But you'll never find a beer so brown_  
 _"As the one we drink in our home town!_  
 _"You can drink your fancy ales;_  
 _"You can drink 'em by the flagon,_  
 _"But the only brew for the brave and true..._  
 _"Comes from the Green Dragon!"_

As always, this song had them dancing on the table, the taste of the pale bitter ale of the inn thick on their tongues, and Merry wondered if he would ever drink at the Green Dragon again. Probably not. After all, he and Pippin were unknowns in the Shire now. Like as not they would be welcome enough in Bree, but Buckland and Tuckborough? The places that were home could never be such again, and he wondered, as he flopped back onto a bench next to their elf, if Pippin was quite aware of the fact. 

Haldir was staring off into some middle distance, and there was a faint flush on his cheeks that caused Merry to look more closely at him. Between the elf's fingers, something silver peeked, and with a grin, Merry recognized it as Oin's flask. Haldir wasn't being all solemn and elf-y, he was drunk. More than that, from the hazy look in his eyes, Merry would go so far as to suggest that the elf was completely blasted. Likely as not, Haldir was a quiet drunk, so Merry resolved not to bother him much. 

Instead, he tried to think of what he and Pippin were going to do once the Ring was taken care of. Maybe they would just disappear - fade away like a dream. That was not a pleasant thought. He was distracted from it when another form thumped down onto the bench beside him. 

Looking up, he saw Kili grinning at him, and wondered why it always seemed to be that he ended up between the dwarf and the elf. It should have been weird, and had he been in a less solemn mood, he might have found it amusing. "Why the sour puss?" asked Kili, nudging him in the ribs. 

"Thinking," he replied, perfectly honestly, and blinked as he suddenly felt Haldir's weight on his right shoulder as the elf slumped over onto him. 

"Who gave him Oin's flask?" Kili asked, amused as Haldir's weight caused Merry to list sideways into him. 

"I would think Oin, but who knows?" He was distracted again by the feeling of fingers trailing up his chin to poke at his mouth. As Kili laughed, Merry turned to frown at Haldir, but the look evaporated when he saw Haldir's face. The common elvish stoic façade was missing, and in its place was frank consideration. "Haldir?" When the elf leaned in just a little farther, to lick a broad swath up his neck, he squeaked, and loudly. 

Kili laughed again; even though he couldn't see what Haldir had done, he could guess well enough. "I was planning to do that first," the dwarf complained, and then he licked Merry as well. 

He squeaked again. "Hey now..!" he started, loudly enough to draw attention to the three of them, right as Haldir leaned across Merry's chest to lick Kili's chin. 

"Hey now, is right!" cried an outraged voice. "Who gave our elf my flask?!" 

It was destined to be another long night. 

* * *

Morning dawned lovely and clear, but damn it all! Pippin was hung over, again. "This has got to stop happening," he groaned. It was better than some of the trouble he often got into, but that didn't make it pleasant. 

Although they were well enough provisioned, Pippin figured that it wouldn't hurt to buy a little bit more, just in case. It only took a short while to find the few things he had been missing, plus a few things he had been surprised to see, like dried tobacco. It was no Longbottom Leaf, or Old Toby, but it was decently fresh, and it seemed as though the man running the stall didn't realize what it was worth. 

They had pipeweed in Gondor, he remembered, a fond smile crossing his face as he thought of the more pleasant parts of his stay in that great city. They didn't call it pipeweed, but they had it. "Tobacco," he said, shaking his head and paying the asking price for a full pouch's worth of the stuff. It wasn't the same as the kind he was used to - in fact it smelled a bit more like the kind that Gimli had had at the beginning of their journey together. 

That wasn't to say that that lovable dwarf hadn't been able to appreciate a good pipe of Longbottom Leaf. Pippin remembered quite well how much Gimli had appreciated their find in the ruins of Orthanc. 

It was strange, he thought, as he headed back to where their ponies were being prepared. It was strange to realize just how many places he had been in the past year or so of his life. 

Rivendale, Moria, Lothlorien, old Fangorn! Orthanc, Edoras, Minas Tirith! Next, Erebor! It was all really very exciting, though he was sure Merry could have told him of all the famous places they had seen on the way. 

When he saw Merry, his cousin was adjusting his sword belt ("I've grown wider again!" he laughed), the hilt of the Barrow Blade visible from beneath his cloak. 

_Something odd about that,_ Pippin thought, staring at it. _Something peculiar._ He couldn't think whether the thought nudging at him was dangerous of not, so he let it go, for the moment. _But when I know, I'll be all over it!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who gave Haldir Oin's flask? C'mon, fess up!


	33. A Day's Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merry gets a nasty surprise that shouldn't have been a surprise, and they all settle down from a day's ride...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Less crack. :)

Bilbo rode a pony like Sam had at the start of the journey; not mistrustful, just awkward (though good ol' Sam would have never even thought to complain), and Pippin resolved to ride up alongside him at some point and tell him how to do it right. 

He couldn't be bothered to do it now though, because something was bothering him, something that might be important, and it had to do with Merry. If it weren't for his serious concern, he would ask his cousin about last night, but as it was... "Merry!" he called, as he finally figured out what it was. He pulled his pony up next to his cousin's. "Lemme see your sword!" 

Haldir passed them, giving Pippin a warning look as he took his horse (he was the only one on a real horse) toward the front of the line. Pippin made a face back at him as Merry turned to question him. "Why?" 

"Something occurred to me," he said, and held out his hand, fingers wiggling impatiently. "C'mon now, we haven't got all day." Contrary to his words, they had nothing but time between Lake Town and Erebor, but he wasn't about to say as much. 

The other hobbit rolled his eyes and carefully unsheathed the blade, passing it over to Pippin, hilt first. "Are you going to tell me what occurred to you?" 

It looked exactly like his own, but Pippin was absolutely certain that there was something wrong with it. "Merry, you do know that this isn't your sword, right?" he asked gently. 

His cousin frowned at him. Merry always looked like he was frowning, except when he was actively doing the opposite, but when he was _really_ frowning, he looked so sullen. "What do you mean?" 

That cinched it. Merry did not know. Pippin bit his lip, examining the blade again. It was just the same as before, but... He handed it back and said, "What happened to your sword, Merry?" in as soft a tone as he could imagine. 

Merry's fingers whitened on the hilt of his sword, then he returned it to his sheath. His brows furrowed, and he said, pensively, "I forgot." The words were almost silent. "How could I have forgotten? My arm still feels icy sometimes, so _how_ could I have forgotten?! Lawks!" 

"You must have put it from your mind." He waited for a long moment before continuing. "If your blade was burned in the Witchking's body, where did this one come from?" 

Merry was silent. 

* * *

He didn't bring it up again until they had set up camp for the evening, and the mood had gone a little too solemn for his tastes. Pippin could easily admit that he could have been more tactful in how he brought it back up. He said, "Maybe it's a gift of Danu," and watched his cousin suddenly inhale the water he had been drinking. 

Eyes streaming and nose running, Merry grumbled as he tried to wipe off his face. "That isn't funny Pippin." 

Bilbo apparently agreed. "It's unkind to wish such things on your kin," he admonished. 

Fili, who had been mostly quiet throughout the day (with the occasional outburst of things like "Ooh, duck!"), snorted and asked the question on many of the dwarves' minds. "Who or what is Danu?" 

The three hobbits made faces at each other, and one by one they all shrugged. "A Valar?" suggested Merry. 

"Perhaps," said Bilbo, in the noncommittal way of a non biased scholar; the same noncommittal way that said "I don't think so, but I haven't any way to prove you wrong." Shaking off dwarven (and one elven) stares, he said, "Anyway, it doesn't matter what Danu is. What matters is, that's a horrible thing to say to your cousin, Pippin." 

"Not so much as you'd think. Faery gifts are bad enough if you know what they are." Not that Pippin actually thought it was faeries, or Danu, or anything of the sort. After all, Galadriel said that this had happened before. "What I'm saying is, if Merry has that, I'm probably overlooking something about myself as well." Now that he thought about it, it was awful strange that they had overlooked the reappearance of the blade like that. 

"Merry has what?" asked Kili, pensive. Ori snuck out his diary to start writing (a grating habit, but not the worst Pippin has had to deal with from a traveling companion). 

"My sword. It was... Pippin pointed out to me, and I don't know how I forgot, that it had been... burned, is a good word. Destroyed. The blade fell to ash." He shook his head and scowled. He drew it partially from its sheath to stare at. "It looks just as it did." 

"If it is something like that," said Pippin, "it doesn't mean you shouldn't use it. 'A gift scorned' and all that. You don't want to be insulting to whatever power decided you ought to have it." 

Merry scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Faeries, really? Did you have to make it sound like faeries?" 

"Couldn't think of anything else that would have done it." Pippin shrugged and flopped onto his bedroll. It didn't take long for everyone else to quiet down and lay down (or go sit by the fire for the first watch, like Bifur and Bofur). Next to him, Fili laid down, and promptly rolled over against Pippin's side. "Have you no shame?" asked Pippin, amused. 

"Sold it," the dwarf replied, and made sure that his blanket and cloak covered both him and Pippin (and Pippin's blanket and cloak). 

"I thought that was your brother's lube," he murmured, grinning. 

"He sold that on his own... I think. And that wasn't my shame, it was the last shreds of the dignity of our house... even if uncle doesn't realize it yet!" They both began sniggering, which probably wasn't good for everyone else's tension. Realizing that only made Pippin giggle louder, and he made a startled sound when Fili's hand covered his mouth. The blond dwarf then whispered in Pippin's ear, "Not so loud. I realize no one is asleep yet, but still!" 

Slowly, Pippin calmed down, but he was still grinning against Fili's hand. When the prince snuggled up close and twined their legs together, he elbowed him in the stomach. "No funny business when others are present," he said seriously. He could feel Fili shrugging in response, and, satisfied that the dwarf was going to behave himself, let sleep claim him. 

Pippin wasn't sure how long later it was, that he woke up, but adrenaline had him moving, reaching for his sword, before he was fully cognizant. It wasn't until his hand wrapped around the hilt that he realized why he was awake. 

There were Orcs, and they were under attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger!! *runs and hides*


	34. Night Raid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orcs, and a necessary change of encampment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short, and I'm rubbish at writing fight scenes of any sort. :)

Haldir had been the one to call the alarm, even though he had not been on watch, technically. Merry and Pippin had reacted with gratifying alacrity to the alarm (Bilbo only a few counts slower), on their feet with their blades in hand before the sleep was fully out of their eyes, and only a few of the dwarves proved to be better warriors. 

The ensuing skirmish was quick and merciless, over nearly as quick as it began, and not in the least in the Orcs' favor. There were nearly two dozen of the foul beings, and their greater number hardly did them any good. 

Three of the creatures were dead with arrows in their skulls, while the rest had been hacked brutally by axes and swords and the like. Nearby, Pippin was working to free his blade from the body of a felled foe, and Merry was switching his blade from hand to hand, frowning when he held it in his right. 

"We move on," announced Thorin, and no one showed the least of surprise. "We can make camp again in daylight." 

* * *

Preparation to move was made in tense silence, as all ears were open to the sounds around them, as though more Orcs would suddenly appear. 

Haldir knew better. Whatever had been following Thorin's people before, these Orcs had little to do with. It was just a common raiding party, unless he was gravely mistaken. Instead of saying as much to the dwarves (it wouldn't hurt to have them watchful), he moved to check on Merry, who was still favoring his right arm. 

He didn't have a chance to ask, though, when Merry spoke. "It's... an old wound. I was told I would carry it for life." He finished tying his bedroll to his pony, glanced up and smiled. "I'm actually a bit relieved. It has been too easy, so far, and it does no good to trust such things to remain that way. I suspect we'll pick up our pace, now." 

The hobbits' behavior, that is, Merry and Pippin's behavior, suddenly made a little more sense. The company hardly treated the trek seriously enough, and those two had, in their time traveling (the time that happened to them, but hasn't happened yet, and like as not never will), grown accustomed to harsher traveling conditions. 

"I thought it a little odd," Merry confessed, still smiling, "that it took the company so long to get to Rivendale, in Bilbo's story, when four untried hobbits and a man made the same trek, mostly on foot, in ten less days. Aye, we had fell things following us, but I wonder... Was it because Thorin was lost?" 

Since everyone was being so quiet, Merry's voice carried across the encampment, causing more than a couple of the dwarves to smother laughter that was partly fueled by remaining adrenaline. Pippin didn't even bother to hide his amusement. "I would have wondered much the same had I known the details so well," he said, and that was it. 

They were on their ponies (and Haldir was on his horse) in moments, still aware of their surroundings, but lighter of heart than they had been several minutes prior. And it was possible that that was the reason Thorin said nothing. 

* * *

Morning dawned wet and dreary, and they continued to ride until they found a decently sized outcropping large enough to shelter the entire lot of them thirteen dwarves, three hobbits and an elf were a large group to find shelter for, but it wouldn't do to have them separated after last night's attack. 

Haldir then got to see something that he had put out of his mind since Merry had initially begun to warm up to him - the younger hobbits scrunching up next to each other, and no matter which was asleep, the other was not; in this, it seemed, they still only fully trusted in each other. 

Perhaps if he wasn't as old as he was, Haldir might have felt distress that they still didn't trust him to guard their sleep. He was that old though, and with age comes understanding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how I feel about this chapter, but here it is, regardless.


	35. Thranduil's Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil receives unexpected visitors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for OOC, and Galadriel's sense of humor. :)

Far away from where the company continued their trek, the Woodland King brooded on his woodland throne, in the caverns where he had made his palace. He sipped his wine, rolling it thoughtfully in his mouth, and came to a Conclusion about the party that had spent time in his halls. 

Thorin was the leader of the dwarves. He was _not_ leading Marchwarden Haldir; they had treated one another as equals, as someone to be wary of. _Haldir_ followed the halflings. 

A second Conclusion easily followed the first. The halflings had an errand of great import, and while it had a connection to Thorin Oakenshield's mission, they were not one and the same. Therefore... 

Thorin _was_ intending to reclaim Erebor. Thranduil sighed at the folly of mortals. With so few alongside him, how did he hope to deal with the dragon? 

Something tickled the edge of his senses, and he ignored it for some time, as the thoughts in his mind were more important at the moment than strange presences in his forest. Strange presences... He straightened slowly, and just in time, too. 

For there she walked, unannounced, the Lady of the Galadhrim, Galadriel. "Such grim thoughts, Thranduil. I see you spend your time wisely," she said, with an odd little smirk that only elves from the First Age, and other beings of similar age, would see. 

"What are you doing here?" he asked, in no mood for games. "Celebron most be giddy with joy, with you so long at other business." 

"He was getting cocky," she said, with a sly glance back toward the door. She wasn't alone, but it wasn't her husband who came in behind her. 

It was Elrond. "I see the House of Thranduil is ever aware," said the Peredhil. Unlike Galadriel, Elrond didn't look amused; then again, he rarely did. 

Elrond wore the same expression bluffing at games of chance as he did bleeding to death on a cliff face. Thranduil decided to ignore him for a moment to point out Galadriel's tasteless sense of humor. "Still making cock jokes, are we?" he asked, and was thrilled to see Elrond's lips give a faint twitch. 

"It is getting too pervasive," she admitted. "My visitors aren't even surprised anymore. Then again, they had already heard them all. Might we go somewhere private? I do have reasons to be here other than to subject you and Elrond to my humor." 

He had expected as much. Galadriel would not have left the Golden Wood on anything but an errand most dire. He swayed slightly as he stood, but neither Galadriel nor Elrond chose to comment. The three elves left his throne room, and eventually they came to the drawing room adjacent to his own quarters. "You may as well speak now." 

Galadriel looked solemn, in a way that belied her earlier ease. "Dol Guldur," she said, and a chill went up his spine. "It is worse than we imagined. And the White... has been working against us. Mithrandir directs his attention elsewhere for the moment, but this is... bigger than we were expecting. There is time yet. The Enemy has not grown strong, and for now, we must hold him at Dol Guldur for as long as we can." 

"Mithrandir said nothing of this in Rivendale," Elrond murmured, on hand reaching up to rub his brow. "How did you learn of this?" 

"I read portents yet," she said, and Thranduil bristled. 

"Portents to my son, who would have nothing to fear, had you not sent your portents here!" He dropped like a stone to be seated, and slowly, the others did the same. 

Gently, Galadriel replied to his brief tirade, "It is better that he not be caught unaware, else he would not have the presence of mind to return to land, even briefly." 

"Useless platitudes," he growled, then waved her aside ere she stood. "No, I see the wisdom of it! I don't _want_ to see it!" 

Through this, Elrond had remained silent, but he chose that moment to clear his throat. "Perhaps there is more to Galadriel's reasoning than we know." 

"Thank you, Elrond," she said, with finely veiled sarcasm. "I come to the reason why things are beginning to peak. It has been found. I know not where it is now, but it has come through your halls, Thranduil." 

Thranduil and Elrond sat, stiff and silent. Could her news get any worse? He should have known, even as he thought it, that it would be. Galadriel smiled sadly, acknowledging his thoughts as fact. 

"So this is how Mithrandir feels when he brings bad news," she said, still smiling. "Two of the plantír are in their hands. The White's and His." 

Thranduil didn't have to look to see that Elrond's face had gone ashen, and he was certain that his had done the same. "Enjoy your day of playing storm crow," he said weakly. "Are you certain?" 

"It was in their minds," she said softly. "As had been Fangorn." With that she opened her mind to them, showing them what she had found from the two halflings. Thranduil had _known_ that they had been on her business. Why hadn't he questioned them further? 

Right, because he expected to speak to Galadriel directly. 

Their heads all swiveled to look when the door opened. There stood Legolas, giving them a look reminiscent of a teenager who caught his parents being weird with their friends again. "Would you like anything to eat or drink?" he asked awkwardly. 

"We need nothing, Legolas Greenleaf," Galadriel said, the first words that any of them had spoken aloud since entering the room. "Someone shall be called if we change our minds." 

Bowing carefully, he eyed his father's troubled countenance. "Surely, my lady," he agreed, and made an otherwise silent exit. 

"He's certainly grown, hasn't he?" asked Elrond. "Settling household disputes for you?" 

Thranduil rolled his eyes, and didn't dignify that with a response. 

"And here I've heard you both refer to halflings," he continued in a tone that was far too smug for the room they were in. "You wouldn't be talking of hobbits, would you? After all this time, telling me that they didn't exist?" 

Thranduil groaned and Galadriel hid a smile with her hand. 

"You may as well admit that I was right," Elrond said, smirking. 

"You win," said Galadriel, and she stood, smoothing her robes. "We had best rest. Tomorrow there are plans that must be made. There will be a battle, but not the one History expects."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blame the Lothlorien cock jokes on my rubber wall. :)


	36. The Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They reach the mountain and there's a dragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I skimped a little here, but that's how it wanted to come out...

In Mirkwood, there stirred ancient things that had been unseen in over an age, but for the moment, that had little bearing on the sixteen making their way north from Lake Town. Each member of the company had their own worries, and they ranged from simple - "I wonder how much gold is really there?" - to complicated - "Growing attached to mortals, what am I thinking?" - to everywhere in between. 

The hobbits were all riding side by side, the two larger ones attempting to show their older cousin how to properly sit in the saddle. As much as they liked the dwarves, they were a bit irked that Bilbo had gone all this way not knowing how to ride. 

Ori sketched as he rode, listening for anything out of the ordinary, and allowing his eldest brother to lead his pony. 

Haldir moved up and down the group, and the dwarves were mostly glad that he had taken over that duty. He was easier company, and he rarely stared at them as he passed as though they had done wrong. That was an unfortunate habit of their king. 

Oin, unable to hear well (though he played it up often), watched, his keen eyes sweeping over the company, and occasionally looking behind. No one had been hurt seriously in their last little run in with Orcs, although he had thought, watching Merry's pained face as he rolled and stretched his arm that he had been hurt. When Oin asked, he had been rebuffed sharply, before the hobbit abruptly softened and told him that it wasn't recent. Still, he planned to watch, just in case, and had suggested that Merry teach himself to use his left hand in a fight. 

Merry had already been considering that; he had been considering that ever since the injury had happened. He had even convinced himself that it was okay for him to join the last battle, as long as he used his left hand. 

It was better that he had been there. He couldn't imagine leaving Pippin alone now... Not that Pippin was alone. Pippin made friends quickly and easily, no matter where he went, and Merry was confident that his cousin would have made it just fine... except that he would have been alone. 

Sometimes, Merry chose to have a short memory. Deliberately, he didn't think about the way his cousin had moved at first, and the way he had often clung to Merry for support, even as he laughed, joked, and talked (even though that had obviously pained him). 

No, Merry did not think if those things. Instead he watched as they approached the mountain, and its grand mass. Over the next days, they circled around its base, and most of them climbed to the place where they would wait. 

There was no need to hide yet. Until they entered the mountain, Smaug was unlikely to come out. 

* * *

"I am the Luckbearer...  
"Ringwearer...  
"He that walks unseen..." 

Unheard but for a hammering heart, and not wearing that damned ring now, no no no... 

"I am the Stinging Fly,  
"The Reason Why...  
"Some things shall never be..." 

There had been no barrels for him to speak of. No reason for Smaug to go to Lake Town. In the end, trembling like mad and wishing he had asked one of his cousins to come here instead (instead of insisting that it was what he was hired for, after all), he raced out, with one poorly used word that had dragon fire flickering on his heels. 

* * *

The plan was that Haldir would wait near the gates, and the only opening that Smaug could get through. The only problem was, Smaug wasn't coming out. 

"I wonder," said Merry, as he hand Pippin decided that they would go with Bilbo as the burglar tried one more time, "what you said differently?" 

"No barrels," said Bilbo, having heard that part of the story from them. It was such a surprise to him, hearing that he would have been so brave, so obviously insane. Then again, they hadn't really curbed his insanity yet, had they? 

"No barrels," snorted Pippin. "No reason for him to try and destroy Lake Town, I suppose." 

And so they worked their way down the long hall, quiet as hobbits (easy enough, considering that they were hobbits), until the dragon's glow became apparent. The hadn't yet come in sight of it when it spoke, "You've come again, have you, theif?" They heard it moving, and then they saw it. Both Merry and Pippin had to choke on a gasp. "And not alone this time, but I cannot tell what they are, either. Although," and Smaug's massive snout passed by far too closely, "there is something familiar about them. I know that scent..." Fire curled from between its teeth. 

Without warning, one of Smaug's paws lashed out at them, and the three did their best to dodge the massive claws. And then the dragon took off, running toward the gate. 

Merry dusted himself off, feeling like he'd just been given a heart attack. He looked over and saw Bilbo, who was just as pasty as he felt. Frowning, he looked again, and his heart sunk. 

Where was Pippin?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little short and...
> 
> ...cliffhanger.
> 
> *runs and hides*


	37. Falcon's Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haldir can't shoot with Pippin in the dragon's claws! What will they do? And then, something shocking happens!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this one is really short, again, but hey, here it is anyway.

The dragon whooshed overhead with a roar, and Haldir saw something small and wriggling in its grasp. His arrow was ready to loose, but he couldn't fire, not with what appeared to be Pippin (if the honey colored hair was any indication) in the dragon's claws. 

* * *

At first, Pippin was too astonished to do anything. Certainly he had had horrible things happen to him in the past, but kidnapping by dragon? Seriously? Were the Valar playing some kind if trick on him? 

But no, the rushing of wind in his ears, the pressure of the dragon's toes wrapped around his chest; it was too real. So he did what he had always told himself he would do if he ever got kidnapped by a dragon (as a faunt, he had too active of an imagination). He pulled his sword and stabbed it in the toes. It did no good. 

Panic swelled in his chest as, in a flash, they were outside and - _Haldir will shoot it now, right?_ \- he couldn't breathe enough to even scream. 

Something fractured. 

It changed. 

As if the world had fallen still, except that wasn't possible, he could still hear his heart, slamming painfully in his chest, yet it felt distant, somehow. The dragon's grip tightened, then loosened, and Pippin was in the air, and he heard, distantly, a shriek, like that of a hawk... 

* * *

The dragon came back, and Haldir debated shooting it. Surely if he did, it would be Pippin's death, and he couldn't make himself do it. 

It was a trick of the eyes, maybe, but there was something... strange, about the tiny body in Smaug's grip, and as Haldir's eyes blurred, he could see everything _but_ Pippin. In the blur, something fell, then, suddenly that something wasn't the small creature it had been. 

It had to be one of the great eagles, and yet... Haldir blinked away the blur of his vision. No, it wasn't an eagle. Its feathers were dim and dark, but its chest was honey and white, speckled grey. The perfect arch of its wings was that of a falcon, but... 

How could it fly, wrapped in rattling chain? 

The bird, chains rattling, screamed and dove for the dragon's eyes. It was as large as one of the eagles, and though its initial strike missed, it did cause the dragon some pain. Smaug roared fire, and the falcon wheeled away, the dragon chasing after. 

Haldir stood, arrow still pulled, unsure just what he had seen. 

* * *

The falcon led the dragon on a wild chase, its heart thrumming within it at the excitement. Where would it lead the beast, it wondered. _"Back toward the mountain,"_ a small voice whispered inside it. 

It dipped back, allowing the dragon to think that it came close to winning, then flared its wings, suddenly soaring high. Wheeling around, it turned back toward the mountain, its mind still high from the chase. 

Reaching the gates again, the falcon stooped at the small creature before it _"Haldir,"_ the voice within reminded it, and as it wheeled away, the dragon finally managed to strike it, and the falcon was sent tumbling, chains and all, to the earth. Behind him, the dragon screamed in mortal agony, and fell before the gates. 

The falcon's vision dimmed as it fell into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can anyone guess what the falcon is?


	38. Awake, Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pippin finds out a little of what happened. The dwarves get scandalized by the hobbits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly disjointed, I'm afraid. :)

The trees were screaming far away _how dare you, how dare you? pass through and speak not to us? how dare you?_

Pippin thrashed on the ground, and had no idea how he had gotten there, and oh how his head hurt! A voice chanted in the back of his head, making it hurt all the more sharply. 

_I soar; I see_  
 _The trees, they come_  
 _Old one, seeking something new_  
 _And dark, fell things come too_  
 _They have come all along_  
 _Fly, I should, free_  
 _Iron chains hold me down_  
 _I will not be trapped!_

His head was full of cotton, and a warm hand touched his face. He could taste iron. 

_Iron,_ scoffed a dark voice in the back of his mind. _I am not so weak as to succumb to the merest taste of iron._

"The trees are coming," Pippin muttered against the thick, calloused fingers that touched his mouth. "They're angry, and they're coming." He struggled to open his eyes. 

The first thing he saw were stunningly pale blue eyes, and after a couple of blinks, he was able to see Fili's face before a hand, one with long, sturdy, hobbity fingers, pushed the dwarf away. Then Fili's face was replaced with Merry, whose lovely grey eyes were rimmed red. His cousin looked truly miserable. 

"Merry," said Pippin, licking his lips. "I think I've gone and hit my head." 

A short, incredulous snort of laughter escaped Merry. "I can tell you right now that that is _not_ the thing to worry about... Unless... How are you feeling, Pip?" 

"My head hurts. And I heard something funny." Even to his own ears, his voice sounded whiney. Something jabbed him in the arm and he said, "Ow," just so that everyone would know that he didn't appreciate that. Merry looked relieved. 

"Do you think you can move on your own?" he asked, looking much better than he had moments before. "If not, I'm sure we can find someone to carry you." 

Pippin struggled upright, immediately raising a hand to his face as his head began to pound more harshly. "Ngh," he grunted, feeling nausea rising in his throat. A strong pair of arms supported his back, and he let himself lean into Fili's hold. "I think I can," he murmured, quietly so as to not rouse his headache further, "but I don't think I should." 

"I'll do it," said Fili, quickly, as though not wanting anyone else to volunteer. 

"Unless you want me to get sick on you," Pippin admonished, "you had better be steady, very steady." 

He could feel Fili nod, and then Fili moved, hooking one arm beneath Pippin's knees, keeping the other behind his back. He was gently tipped to the side until his face was pressed against Fili's chest, and the cold metal of the armor he wore. _Iron,_ he thought. _It smells like iron._

_It tastes like my chains,_ said the dark voice, and Pippin's eyes slowly fell closed again. 

* * *

"What happened?" he asked later, and Fili tried to feed him stewed rabbit. Pippin tried, he really did, but it was... He didn't know what it was, but there was something revolting about it. Yesterday, he would have eaten it, no problem, but there was no rabbit yesterday. "Don't we have anything else?" he grumbled. 

Merry offered him bread, cram with dried fruit in it, and that, he devoured eagerly. "Haldir says you turned into a pooka." 

"That's not what I said," Haldir stated, sounding profoundly irritated, like they had already had this discussion. They probably had, Pippin realized, if he had been out long at all. 

"Giant falcon, draped in chains," said Bilbo, very quietly, but Pippin heard him just fine. "There's little else that description fits. Pookas are usually horses, but not always." 

"Falcon?" Pippin asked, grinning slightly. His head was starting to feel better, and he picked the dried fruit from the bread that was still in his hands. "What kind of falcon?" 

"You looked like a Peregrine, except that you were of a size with the Great Eagles," said Haldir. 

"I'm not sure if that's funny or not," he muttered, closing his eyes. Actually, he wasn't sure if Merry or he had ever actually mentioned their full names to everyone else. He didn't think he had, but... "My proper name," he began, and watched as the dwarves within earshot (and his eyesight) got this scandalized look on their faces, "is..." He ended up mumbling it into the hand of one dwarf he hadn't seen. 

Behind him, Fili grumbled, "You aren't supposed to speak your true name to any but those closest to you!" 

He pushed Fili's hand away and turned to frown at him. "I'm a hobbit," he said, the frown etching deeper. "We don't do things the same way as dwarves. If I want to say, 'My real, full name is Peregrin Took,' _you_ have to deal with it." 

They all blinked at him. 

"Turning into a pooka shaped like a Peregrine Falcon is almost poetic, and I don't think it's the worst thing that has happened to me." He patted the blond dwarf on the cheek. He didn't yet feel like doing anything more energetic than that. "I suppose I should thank you for trying to look after me, though." 

"On that note," said Merry, "before anyone gets any weird ideas about me, my full name is Meriadoc Brandybuck. I honestly don't think it's been said, either." 

"Before we get too wild," Pippin continued, "has anyone sent for Dain yet? We'll need him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derpy derp.


	39. Before Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori asks about pookas, and the hobbits know less than they would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's okay to get a little wacky some times. :)

"Do you think the Men of Lake Town will still show?" asked Ori's soft voice, from somewhere nearby. Casually, Dwalin looked over his shoulder, twiddling a ruby between his thick fingers. The younger dwarf hadn't been speaking to him, but to the hobbits. 

"I don't know," said Merry. He and Pippin sat close together, leaning into a pile of bedrolls and on furs that had come from somewhere. The younger hobbit still looked miserable; although he tried to cover it with faux cheer, it was apparent to any who had eyes that he was in pain, and sick besides. "I can't say I understand the motivations of Men, but if they do, they will probably want what Smaug had stolen from Dale." 

"They can have my share," said Bilbo, hands clenched around something bright that had Dwalin trying to look more closely. Broad fingers, compared to the other hobbits, covered it well, whatever it was. "I think... Things should not progress the same, yes?" 

Pippin gave his cousin an arch look but said nothing. Again, Merry was the one to answer. "Do what you think best, cuz. Be careful though. The dangers may remain the same, in spite of warnings." 

The burglar nodded, biting his lip. Without further words, he walked away, his fingers still clenched around that bright something. 

Ori spoke again, still sounding just as distressed as he had with his first question. "Why would Pippin turn into something else?" Dwalin turned around, not bothering to hide his interest. Even Pippin turned toward Merry, as though curious about how his cousin would explain things. 

"I did say the Tooks had faery blood," he said with a grimace. "Rather, I said that legend has it that they do. I've never heard of anything like that happening though, so I think I couldn't hazard a guess." 

"The faery had to be a pooka," murmured Pippin, glancing about to see where everyone was. "Maybe it just decided to come out?" 

"The blood?" Merry was both amused and skeptical. "Maybe." The way he said it wasn't anything like an agreement. 

"What is a pooka?" Ori asked. He was frowning, the tip of his pen tapping nervously at the edge of his paper. 

"A faery," the two said in unison, as the princes walked over, arms full of gleaming things. The hobbits looked at each other and Pippin sighed and clarified, "A pooka is an intelligent animal spirit with a mischievous, though not malignant nature. It's given away for what it is by its chains. Horse or pony shaped pookas have been known to entice folks to try and ride them and then they won't let them off, effectively giving them the ride of their life. I kind of remember... being chased, and I think it was like that." He didn't look sure, and still didn't when Fili sat next to him. 

Kili sat practically in front of Merry, asking, "Where's our elf?" 

"Are they dangerous?" asked Dwalin, overriding Kili's chance for an answer. 

"I'm sure, if you make them angry," Merry replied. He gave his cousin a suspicious look. "How do you feel?" 

"Tired, nauseous, hungry. My head still hurts, but I think I'll be fine." He looked a little better than he had several minutes prior, and he huddled in a ball between the crown prince and his cousin. "I don't want the rabbit though. The smell of it made me sick." He was very firm on that point. 

Merry sighed and got up. He glanced at Dwalin, who was still idly playing with the same ruby. "At least some dwarves are sensible around here," he said, and smiled when Kili loudly protested, dropping the items that he had probably spent the last two hours gathering. "I'll be back in a minute, Pip." 

After he left, Kili following, Dwalin decided to give Fili and Pippin some privacy when he noticed the prince murmuring into the hobbit's curly, honey colored hair, one arm curled possessively over his shoulders. 

Dwalin went to see what Ori had written down. The youngest dwarf had made a habit of recording everything, and his words often made more sense than the events they recorded. It was possible that Dwalin might gain some understanding by reading it. 

* * *

The lips moving in his hair felt nice; even the vibration of Fili's voice was more soothing than anything else. "Will it happen again?" the dwarf wanted to know. 

"I don't know," Pippin said, honestly. Equally honestly, he added, "It happened once; that opens the pathways, I think, for it to happen again. I wouldn't count on it though. I don't know why it happened, except maybe because of Smaug?" He let out a small, frustrated breath. The dark thing, newly awoken inside of him, cried out for the sun and the stars and open air. It didn't care to be under the mountain, but Pippin was resolved to ignore it. 

Fili rubbed his shoulder, and he shuddered once, when fingers pressed too hard against where he had fallen. He felt like one great big bruise, all over, but his shoulder and left side, against which the dwarf was leant, was worst, aside from his head. "I don't know what to think about it," Fili admitted. "I think it should scare me, maybe, but I'm too confused for it to, yet." 

It was nice to receive such frank honesty in the face of his own, but the thought brought a slight furrow to his brow. "Don't ever lie to a faery," he said. "If you ever meet one, don't ever lie to it. They can tell, and they don't like it." 

He could almost feel Fili's frown. "I wasn't..?" 

"I know, but I mean, in the future, if you ever see one, don't do that. In all the old stories it's about the worst mistake you can make with one, and I wouldn't want something to happen to you because you were embarrassed or something." He felt a huff of air against his scalp as Fili let out a silent laugh. "I'm serious." 

"How likely is it that I'll see more faeries?" asked the dwarf. 

"How would I know?" Pippin grunted, irritated. "It's not like they all look the same, but there are some really nasty ones, so I thought I should say." 

Then Merry came back with a small assortment of food items. There was a little cheese, some more cram, dried fruit, jerky, and a little paper wrapped bundle of toffee that he must have found at the market in Lake Town. Pippin happily set to it, but after trying to bite into the jerky found himself gagging as his teeth barely touched it. It's scent was heavy in his mouth. Puzzled, he set it back down and reached for something else. The fruit was fine, as was the cheese, the cram, and the candy. "You okay?" asked Merry, his eyebrows raised. He had settled directly in front Pippin and now he, his cousin, and the dwarven princes sat in a square. 

"Jerky's bad," Pippin mumbled around a bite of cheese. 

Merry picked it up and sniffed it. Then he stuck it in his mouth and chewed. After breaking it down enough to swallow, he said, "No it isn't." 

"Uh huh," said Pippin. "I won't eat it." Even if Merry seemed to think it was alright, the smell of the stuff had lingered on his tongue longer than was acceptable. "Tasted like that stuff the Uruk-hai tried to feed us." 

Merry's eyes flew wide at that, and then he looked at Pippin closely. "And what did the rabbit taste like?" 

"Like that squirrel smelled," he said, clearing his mouth with water. 

"Hmm," said Merry. 

As though sensing that Pippin's response wasn't going to be nice, Fili suddenly interrupted them. "We found some things for you two. You don't have any armor, and Pippin's lost his sword, so..." 

Although he didn't quite understand the dwarves' interest in the metals and gems, he, like Merry, decided to indulge them anyway. And Pippin pointedly didn't say anything about the things that had obviously been gathered for Haldir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least it isn't a cliffhanger. *whistles innocently*


	40. Gold and Mithril (and a stone)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin struggles internally with his gold lust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oddly introspective, I suppose.

The dwarves had to be reminded, multiple times, of the hobbits' warnings of gold madness. Thorin found himself repeating "the end of the line of Durin" under his breath repeatedly in order to fight off the strange, foreign (once he thought about it) joy he felt, looking upon the amassed treasure. His death was not a strong enough deterrent, but that of his nephews? Yes, he found that he could focus past the longing, so long as he kept in mind their deaths. 

He didn't even search for the Arkenstone. It would be found in time, and there were more important matters to deal with. Namely, if he wanted to keep his burglar close after they all survived (any other outcome was unacceptable) the coming battle, how was he to do so? After all, neither Merry nor Pippin wanted to so much as touch that ring of Bilbo's, and it still needed to be destroyed. 

Perhaps they could heat a forge hot enough? 

If that were possible, no doubt that was what would have been done in the hobbits' time. They had had a dwarf with them, and he couldn't see Gimli, Gloin's son, being so incompetent as to be unable to build a proper forge. 

And after seeing the effect of the gold lust on this sensible group, even sweet, young Ori, he couldn't hope to send the damned thing away in the hands of a dwarf. It was entirely possible that the Ring was partly behind the sudden, overwhelming desire to just go and lounge in the piles of gold. Didn't they say that it affected the mind? Didn't they say it tried to lure one to his own destruction? 

No, the Ring had to go. More so, Bilbo was the one who had to take it. The problem Thorin was having, was how was he to ensure Bilbo's safety, other than to go with him? An act which would, likely, irritate his people to some degree, but after winning back Erebor, he felt entitled to do whatever the hell he wanted to, afterwards. It couldn't be denied that he _owed_ Bilbo, and gravely, and he could easily use that to do this one thing he wanted. 

Somehow, he doubted that Bilbo would protest. 

His thoughts, though heavy, weren't heavy enough to disguise his burglar's approach, and he greeted the hobbit with a wan smile. "I hope that my behavior isn't far yet, out of the norm. Convincing the others to only seek out practical items has been difficult." 

Bilbo's return smile was shy, though bright. "I wasn't sure I should bring you this," he said, and pressed something that felt cool and smooth, like a large gem, into one of Thorin's much larger hands. "I'm still not," he added, turning away. "But you may surprise me yet. I wish to make a request, however, involving my share of the treasure. I wish it to go toward the rebuilding of Dale. I have little need of such things." He paused then turned to look Thorin in the eye. "Even should they come, rudely demanding, that is still my wish." 

Thorin's fingers rolled the stone Bilbo had given to him, and it was at those final words that he finally glanced down at it. It shone brightly between the dirty digits, and he gasped. Merry and Pippin, telling their story, rather, their repetition of Bilbo's story as remembered from nearly two decades past, had adroitly avoided mention of the Arkenstone, though it was obvious, in hindsight, what his and Bilbo's "dispute" had been over. "I mentioned practical items," he managed to say, after several long minutes looking back and forth between the hobbit and the stone. "Come with me. I have found something that may not surprise you, but may still keep you alive through later hardships!" 

It was not meant as thanks, when he gave Bilbo the mithril mail. It wasn't thanks for the Arkenstone that he now held, nor was it thanks for helping them to reclaim Erebor. No, it was a simple declaration of "I want for you to be safe," so he wouldn't let Bilbo go until he wore it. "I feel utterly ridiculous," he said, but he grinned as he said it. 

"When you go," Thorin told him (because he wasn't _asking_ ), "to destroy that thing, I am coming with. Then, then..." He gritted his teeth and looked away. 

"I shall have to return to Bag End, at least for a time," said Bilbo. "I sent letters home, you know, when we were at Thranduil's palace. I was asked if I needed anything, so I asked if I could do so. It wouldn't do to return home and find it ransacked by greedy relatives. I think the elves were quite perplexed, as I tried to send one to everyone I knew." 

Thorin chuckled at the image. "When did you find the time to sew?" he asked, indicating the tunic he currently wore. 

The shy smile Bilbo had given him earlier came back in force. "In between letters, of course." 

With a loud racket that had Bilbo nearly jumping from his skin, Ori came bouncing down the nearby pile of gold. "Dain's coming!" he shouted breathlessly. "And he's bringing dwarves! And the ravens have spotted Orc raider bands on the move, and _Mirkwood_ is moving, they say! It's not, there's not, it's... We got days, but..!" He made a frustrated sound and pulled on his beard. 

"Then we should be getting ready, shouldn't we? And someone should ask Pippin what he meant about the trees being angry." Tugging at Bilbo to make sure he was being followed, he returned to the group with the scribe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically, not a cliffhanger!
> 
> Edit - durned autocorrect!


	41. While Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haldir worries and makes a plan. Meanwhile, Thranduil notices something... odd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am totally not at fault for this. *glances around for someone to take the blame* Ha! It was the lampshade that did it! :D

Elves weren't any better at the waiting game than mortals. Haldir was torn between spending the days waiting pacing the high spaces above Erebor's gates, finding a warm, cozy place to drag Merry and/or Kili, or agonizing over his attachment to them (and the other halflings and dwarves, for that matter) in silence. 

There was a reason why everyone was having a difficult time finding him when it occurred to them to look. Merry was the only one who searched for him with any sort of regularity, he noticed, but the hobbit didn't often think to look up. And while Haldir could tell that Merry was on the verge of worrying, he was still more concerned, with good reason, with Pippin. 

Yet another thing to worry about amidst a sea of things to worry about. That creature that Pippin had turned into had been fundamentally different from the hobbit he had grown to care so much for (he wasn't about to claim filial love, no matter that it was true), but once he changed back, Pippin was much the same as before. Only a few small things about him changed. He seemed a tad more paranoid (understandable under the circumstances), and he was showing a strong aversion to eating meat (similar, oddly enough, to some of Haldir's kin; stranger still was this aversion showing after he had taken a form so obviously predatory). 

There were so many things to worry about that Haldir found himself leaning more and more toward option number two. With a sly smirk, he considered the possible reactions of both Kili and Merry. Even if they weren't completely amenable to the idea, he was sure he could get away with just hugging Merry in a corner for a while. 

With that in mind, he set about stalking both of them from above, until he could get one or the other or the both of them on their own (or together, so long as it was _just_ them). 

* * *

Thranduil left Galadriel to her own devices when she chose to leave his palace on her own. The Lady of the Galadhrim was something to be feared in her own right, but he suspected that she had plans other than to join _his_ warriors in battle. 

Elrond had, on the other hand, for some reason decided to ride at Thranduil's side. His horse, a beautiful beast the color of moonlight with grey, cloudy markings on its hindquarters, danced with impatience beside Thranduil's own steed; it was impressively tall, being nearly of a height with the elk. The elk was an old, powerful beast, easily as fleet as any Rohirrim horse, and especially more so through the wood. 

They traveled north, almost directly, intending to exit the wood nearly as close as possible to the Lonely Mountain, which was currently the center of attention for more than one army, if Galadriel wasn't entertaining madness. 

Elrond's horse danced distractingly through the underbrush at his side, and the Peredhil sat with his spine as stiff as a steel pole. It couldn't be good for him, but Thranduil knew better than to say so. Admittedly, it did look impressive, that he was able to keep his seat like that on such a fussy mount. 

Behind them, something other than his elves moved, and he urged his steed to still. They should be nearly outside of the forest by now, yet the trees were still thick about them - thicker than they should be. Now that he was watching, he saw that which moved. 

It looked as though the very forest had decided to follow them to battle. 

"So that is what Galadriel has been up to," he murmured to Elrond, who had also stopped to watch. "Best we continue then." And so they did. 

* * *

Merry had given up on the idea of trying to discourage Pippin and Fili. Thankfully, even after the pooka thing, the prince was still solicitous on his cousin's behalf. He didn't feel as worried to leave them alone now, knowing that Pip would, undeniably, be unlikely to find a better companion in the long run. 

The piles of gems and gold still retained much of the dragon's heat, making the treasure room comfortable to walk around in, in his shirtsleeves. Fili and Kili both seemed to disapprove that the two hobbits wore armor not of dwarven make, and Kili had been trying to convince Merry into something that he was quite certain wouldn't fit him well. Certainly, he was broader than Pippin, but Merry was, by no means, as stout as a dwarf. And armor meant for a dwarfling would be no good either, as it would be too short. _And so we find that there are true problems with being one of the tallest hobbits alive,_ he thought, amused, and squeaked when hands came down from above and lifted him by his armpits. "Hey!" he protested, already sure of who the culprit was. "Give me some warning!" 

In response, Haldir chuckled. The elf didn't sound amused though. Not exactly. Amusement was there, but it was subsumed by something else. And Haldir wasn't letting him turn around (once he was back on his feet, on a different level than he had been on) to look at him. 

Instead, the elf sat down and pulled him close, burying his face in the back of Merry's neck and wrapping his arms around him tightly. "Are you alright?" he asked, uncertainly. Haldir had given no indication, either way, of how he was feeling, but Merry had to assume that he must be at least a little stressed. He remembered, hearing once, that elves could get very, very sick from stress, and even die from it, and suddenly found that he was very worried. "Haldir?" 

The elf mumbled something in response that Merry couldn't understand, so the hobbit jostled him until he spoke again. "I am alright" was all he said. 

It was too bad that Haldir wouldn't let him turn around, he supposed. Because he obviously needed a hug. A proper hug. "Lemme turn." He squirmed until the elf adjusted his grip and then turned. "If you needed a hug, you should have just said so." 

Haldir just chuckled again, and shook his head before he stuck his face back into Merry's neck. Merry did his best to hug back. It was nice, if odd; a little like hugs he had received as a fauntling. 

_Very odd feeling,_ he decided, patting the elf's back. _Nice though._ He snuggled close to wait until Haldir was done. It took a minute for him to realize that the hug wasn't quite as innocent as it had seemed at first. The stroke of fingers up and down his back had changed from soothing to tentatively exploratory. As suddenly as he realized, he began giggling. The fingers stopped moving entirely. 

Sounding as though he was sure he would regret doing so, Haldir asked, "What's so amusing?" 

Merry opened his mouth, but only more laughter came. Soon he was laughing so hard that he could hardly breathe, collapsed against Haldir, who's very aura gave off the impression of being utterly miffed. "Lawks!" he exclaimed, when he finally had breath for it. "You do know you're supposed to warn a fella, right?" 

Though he was still for a minute or so longer, Haldir managed to sound as though he understood Merry's laughter. Indeed, he even sounded slightly amused himself as he said, "That wasn't a clear declaration of my intentions? You must have words?" 

"Words would be lovely," he replied, and shivered when Haldir's fingers began moving again. They spread wide on either side of his spine, and _Lawks, but does he have big hands!_ He was sure they managed to easily span his entire back. It was a firm reminder of how much bigger than him Haldir really was. 

"So if I said, 'I want you,' is that declaration enough?" Haldir's voice was quiet, but the words still sent a shudder down his spine. The squeaky sound that Merry responded with might have been agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One: That's as close as I seem able to get to writing porn. True story.  
> Two: Technically not a cliffhanger.  
> Three: Haldir is no longer allowed to call any dwarf "pervy hobbit fancier", even if they are.


	42. Still Waiting (or What's that Sound?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili finds something Unexpected. Thorin worries about a sound he heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, you. The person responsible. You know who you are. :D

_Soft, soft little Merry,_ thought Haldir, dragging his fingers down Merry's back. While he couldn't assume that he had been given permission to do as he wanted, he could tell that Merry wasn't adverse to him continuing as he was. Merry also hadn't exactly protested when, at the inn, he had drunkenly licked a broad swath up his neck. Inhaling deeply of the hobbit's sweet scent, he gently dug his fingers into Merry's backside, massaging. 

The hobbit responded with a sharp gasp and a wriggle. "If you keep doing that..." Merry stopped, and "Nevermind. Keep going. I... It's nice." Haldir kissed at the delicate skin of Merry's throat, working his way to his mouth, and felt the hobbit's hand clutch in his hair, trying to pull Haldir down, and closer. 

Even if this was all it was, Haldir planned on enjoying it. 

* * *

Kili could admit without qualm that it had taken him a while to realize where Haldir had been hiding. He was a dwarf, and dwarves tended to assume down when elves chose up (and hobbits, it was all the same level). So he climbed to the level just above where everyone else was and promptly lost track of what he was doing. 

From up here, the amassed treasure looked impossibly more massive. For a time, he was caught up staring, just enjoying the sight. It was _grand_. It was beautiful. It was... He swallowed at a niggling doubt that came to mind. Gold madness would be the end of the line of Durin. 

It was horrible! Why had they needed so much wealth?! Certainly, it was beautiful to look at, but to need it? Erebor was _home_ , not some cavern of treasure. Home. Did they all forget that? 

_Not Uncle,_ he thought, and he could see where his uncle sat beside Bilbo, the two of them talking in a solemn manner, but sitting closer than they used to. _Uncle realized what was happening from the start. How galling it must have been!_

Forcing away the dark thoughts that wanted to crowd his mind, he stood again, to look for Haldir. That would be a good distraction, and if Haldir was avoiding him? Well, boo on him. 

He walked as lightly as he could, even knowing that the elf would be able to hear him coming if he _floated midair_. Haldir had already shown a kind of genial contempt for what dwarves thought of as "silent". It was only obvious then, that any attempt made by Kili would be duly noted as an attempt, then silently mocked. 

He hadn't expected to find Haldir. Not really. So when he did, he stopped. Not because he saw Haldir but because... 

Because... 

His brain stuttered to a stop. 

It was one thing, he decided, to get to tease them, but this was ridiculously unfair. Merry's shirt hung loosely around his shoulders, held there only by his raised arms, and he and Haldir were kissing. Enthusiastically. 

His fingers clenched against his sides and Kili wondered if they would mind if he joined them. With a grin, he approached, as quietly as he could manage. 

* * *

Thorin twitched at the piercing squeal that cut through the air. It sounded like a hobbit, and... He glanced around to see who was missing; a few dwarves, but he knew where most of them were, and only one hobbit (and the elf, but he had barely joined them in days). He was torn between wondering if Merry was alright, and ducking his head in the sand and waiting for it to be over. 

"That was Merry," observed Bilbo, sipping at a cup of broth. He glanced at Thorin, and probably recognized the agonized look on his face for what it was. "I don't think that was pain, if it makes you feel better." 

"Good to know," Thorin remarked. "And that was more than enough. I needn't know any more." 

"If someone startled him, they'll probably get a what-for," the burglar continued, as though Thorin hadn't spoken. He seemed entirely innocent, unknowing of the thoughts he was stirring in Thorin's mind, until, with a sly, smug look, he asked, "Have you seen Kili?" 

Thorin choked. And Bilbo proved to be quick enough to dodge the halfhearted swipe Thorin made at him, laughing the entire time at the look on the dwarf's face. He threw one of the odd gilded agate stones they had found at the hobbit, who merely caught it and turned it in his fingers. 

"They would make for lovely mathoms to send home," Bilbo commented, more than willing to let the subject drop. After all, if Merry were actually in trouble, the elf was probably already on him. He tossed the stone in his hand for a moment, testing its weight. Thorin already knew that they were nearly as heavy as diamonds, but they were obviously purely decorative. 

He couldn't remember having seen them before, but there were a lot if things here that he didn't remember. Watching the youngest dwarf skid down a gold pile next to them, Thorin wondered why it was always Ori who appeared with news. "What is it?" he asked, sighing. 

"Dain approaches from the East!" the dwarf gasped. 

"Then we had best prepare to greet him." As he stood, he made sure to give Bilbo's hair a tweak - a silent plea for him to come along. This would likely be arduous without pleasant company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gee, what was that sound? Lol Don't be surprised if Kili reappears with both a grin and a black eye.


	43. Dwarves Everywhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pippin hides, and makes a new acquaintance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Duhr... I'm apparently avoiding where this is going. :D

He wasn't hiding. With a little effort, he had dragged his pile of furs and the like to a quiet corner from which he could watch the veritable swarm of dwarves that took over the mountain (under the firm, yet gentle guidance of Dain II Ironfoot and Thorin Oakenshield). Pippin wasn't hiding - he was merely sensibly avoiding the likelihood of becoming underfoot. 

Honestly, he felt much better. Now that he was at enough distance, he could watch all those dwarves swarming about, and he could see patterns in the motion, patterns that, the more he watched, set his head spinning. Dwarves were, he decided, a little bit like ants. He would never say as much, but the proof lay undeniably before him. 

The moving pattern had almost lulled him to sleep when he heard the distinctively clunky sound of dwarven boots moving in his direction. It wasn't one of the company, though. The thirteen dwarves (even Oin), had all learned a different brand of quiet from traveling with hobbits (and an elf). This dwarf, whoever it was, was louder than even Oin (Oin was, oddly enough not the loudest of the company - that award had to go to Ori, who, though sweet, had very little experience with such things) had been when he had first met the half-deaf old dwarf. As the footsteps came closer, he finally saw the dwarf that was coming, and, not wishing to be stepped upon, he chirped out a greeting. "Hello!" 

Cue dwarven heart attack, apparently. The dwarf's face turned a brilliant shade of red, and his fingers clutched spasmodically at his chest as he sputtered, eyes darting around to find the source of the sudden strange voice. "I'm right here," Pippin volunteered, waving his hand so that the dwarf could actually see him. "Don't worry so much. We're all friends here." To illustrate his point, he gave the strange dwarf the biggest, friendliest grin he could manage. 

Bulging eyes stared down at Pippin like he was some kind if ghost that would disappear if the dwarf so much as blinked. Taking a cue from the way dwarves often seemed to introduce themselves (minus standing for it, because while he felt much better, he didn't want to be bouncing around just yet), he said, "Pippin, son of Paladin, at your service." 

"Sigber son of Sindal." The dwarf's thick dark beard bristled at him, and then he leaned forward, examining Pippin curiously. "Well, ye aren't a dwarf at all, are ye?" he exclaimed, still peering down at the hobbit. "Are ye a Man-child?" 

He wiggled his toes pointedly, but the dwarf wasn't looking in the right direction. "No," he finally said, with a sigh, "I'm a hobbit." 

"What's a hobbit?" asked Sigber, bushy eyebrows pulling together over his very dwarven nose. 

Idly, Pippin tried to remember where the Iron Hills were. East, he remembered vaguely. They were somewhere east, and that was why this dwarf had never heard of hobbits. "I'm a hobbit," he repeated, this time with heavy emphasis on the "I'm". "And I'm full-grown, by the way. Is there a reason you came up here?" 

The dwarf rolled his massive shoulders. "I was just looking for a quiet spot to sit for a minute. Too much activity down below. Mind if I sit with ye?" 

Pippin looked around his little nest. As small, and neat as it was, it easily held enough room for a couple more people. "I suppose it's alright," he said, shrugging. Sigber settled down quietly enough, but it wasn't long before he interrupted Pippin's deep, worrisome thoughts. As the hobbit didn't care for the direction his thoughts had been heading, he didn't mind the distraction. 

"Were ye here, little one, when the dragon was slain?" asked the dwarf, his bushy eyebrows once more waggling in Pippin's direction. 

"Technically, yes," he allowed. "One might even say I was present for the event," he added dryly. 

"I heard that Oakenshield brought in a skinshifter, a giant hawk, that tore off the dragon's face before he was slain," said Sigber, his eyebrows waggling energetically. 

"I'm not so sure it was a skinshifter," Pippin replied. 

"Then where is the hawk now?" 

"Uhm..." He blinked at the surprisingly earnest look the dwarf wore. "Well... I uhm... I don't know you very well, so it makes me uncomfortable to say." 

Sigber stared at him, his eyebrows waggling in a strange, hairy dance as he considered Pippin's words. "I think it's the elf," the dwarf finally said and the hobbit nearly choked on a laugh. 

"Haldir fired the arrow that killed Smaug," he pointed out. "Very few archers could have made a shot like that, even among the elves, but that doesn't mean he could do anything of the sort while flying about as a hawk!" 

"Where is it?" asked the dwarf again. He said it quietly enough that Pippin didn't think he expected an answer. 

"I was wondering, what's going on down below? You know, since you were just down there." He shifted and watched the bustling activity. "How many dwarves did Dain bring? Are there already plans in place? Do we know what direction the Orcs are coming from?" 

The dwarf was clearly surprised by his questions, but didn't get a chance to answer, as another voice interjected "We've got more than five hundred dwarves now!" Fili plopped down between Pippin and Sigber, glowering momentarily at the other dwarf. "And you should know, Pip, there are always plans. Sometimes they get a little more complicated than others, but basically the plan is 'Kick moldy Orc ass, then come back and celebrate!' And we have more than Orcs coming this way you know... Then again, you _do_ know, don't you?" 

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied, spitting out a mouthful of blond hair that had somehow gotten there when Fili had sat. 

"Uncle wanted someone to ask you about the trees." Fili chuckled, shaking his head. The other dwarf remained mysteriously silent. "So here I am, asking about the trees." 

"Angry trees, right? I don't think..." He shook his head. "The only time I've seen something like that was when Merry and I saw the Huorns marching. It seems a little... eh, unlikely, at best. I mean, Mirkwood might have its own Huorns, but I can't see what we could have changed as to make them march..." 

"So if they come, they'll be following the elves?" Fili asked, as though completely dismissing Pippin's opinion. 

"Why would they..? No, no, no! I can't see as why Huorns would follow elves! Just ask Haldir if you want a second opinion there!" Pippin rolled his eyes and bopped the prince in the shoulder. "If they follow anything, it would be Ents. And if they're coming without Ents, we're just as much in danger from them as any Orc! They can't tell the difference between us!" 

At that, Fili actually looked disturbed. "What about the elves?" he asked, curious. 

"They look the same, too," Pippin replied, shrugging. "I wouldn't want to see Huorns unless we also see Ents." 

The other dwarf, Sigber, spoke up at that. "I'm sorry, but what's a Huorn?" 

"Ent-like trees," he said, seriously. "And usually they're rather angry, and hate anything that even vaguely resembles Orcs. And to them, we resemble Orcs." 

Sigber nodded, frowning. His eyebrows started waggling again, and Pippin wondered if that was a sign that he was thinking. "And what's an Ent?" 

"Ents are..." Pippin sat back, thinking of his first encounter with an Ent. There was hardly anything he could say that would do them justice. "Amazing," he finished, thinking about those amazing eyes, so deep and thoughtful snapping to life in an instant. "They're older than elves, stronger than trolls, and very much resemble the trees they care for. If there is anything in existence that I would never wish to fight against, it would be an Ent. I'd rather face... Oh, I don't know. Almost anything else. It's a good thing Ents don't like to fight, is all I can say. They don't like their tempers becoming roused, and they're usually quite kind, or so I've found..." 

"If it weren't for Haldir..." Fili began, and Pippin interrupted him, to Sigber's obvious discomfort. 

"You wouldn't believe me about the Ents." He snorted. "I'm not _that_ good at making things up." 

"But you could be having me on about some weird, Took-ish, hobbit story!" Fili exclaimed. 

Pippin began to snicker, "And you didn't believe us about the faeries, either, and now look where we are!" 

Predictably enough, by this point, Sigber asked, in a tone that suggested that he might regret doing so, "What's a faery?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigber is my own special dwarf. It is unlikely that he will do anything significant in the story, but considering that there are now in excess of 500 dwarves at Erebor, I couldn't very well pretend otherwise...
> 
> Other than that... I think we have decent length on this chapter. :D


	44. Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merry decides to do something to help, and Bilbo already is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn that was fast. :)

Merry felt a little guilty over elbowing Kili in the face. But only a little. The guilt was overridden by that damned grin on the dwarf's face, and the fact that he couldn't even be bothered to attempt to be disagreeable with anyone. That is, Kili wasn't bothering to be disagreeable. Merry was never disagreeable. It sounded so sincere in his own head. 

He snickered tiredly and climbed up a rock (with great difficulty - he didn't climb that well at the best of times) to watch Dain's people show up. He could honestly say he had never seen so many dwarves. Once, he had seen as many Men, but at that time he had been part of the chaos, rather than standing apart, merely watching. And at his height, he hadn't been the best to observe it. 

Like him, Haldir had apparently decided to stay out of the thick of it, but the throng had absorbed most of the rest of their party - Although he had spotted Pippin dragging his things away earlier, likely to find a hiding place. All of their dwarves, however... Fili was, overall, doing much what a prince would be expected to do in this situation, much like Éomer had done throughout a good share of the trek to Gondor. 

Merry remembered some of Éomer's less than kind words toward him and found himself flushing. Well, at least here, among dwarves, he wasn't likely to be lost due to his small stature! And he was certainly through with accusations of "playing soldier"! He and Pippin had worked very hard to be where they had gotten, and they both had proven themselves with heroic deeds, no matter the doubts of some. 

On that note, he decided to go and ask Fili if there was anything he could do. He wasn't about to be lost in the press of bodies and dismissed as useless again. 

* * *

Bilbo didn't care to be jostled. It didn't matter if it was by dogs or trolls or dwarves, he just didn't like it. However, it was an unfortunate side effect of being the smallest person present. 

Unwilling to allow himself to be forgotten for long, he learned quickly to do something he had never before done in his life, aside from childhood disagreements. He began yelling. Oh, it started with raising his voice to be heard, but once it became obvious that dozens of dwarves were louder than one irritated hobbit, he filled his lungs to bursting and had astounded himself with the volume of the sound that had come out. 

At least they were listening to him now. 

He still wasn't sure how it had come to be that he was in charge of anything, much less distribution of resources, but he wasn't about to argue it. Not when it was obvious that it was necessary, and when he apparently knew more about proper allotment than the poor dwarf that had been in charge of this before him. The dwarf (who he was beginning to suspect was a lass) stayed and helped him, thankfully, but didn't seem to be forceful enough to get control the crowd on his (her?) own. 

Initially, he thought he had been helping the dwarf, yet somehow, he ended up in charge and the dwarf (Rín was his (her?) name) was helping _him_ and Bilbo wasn't entirely sure how it had come to this. 

As a bonus, he now seemed to have enough time on his hands to mend his waistcoat (not his original, but one he had made to replace it while in Thranduil's cavern palace), and once the rush of dwarves tapered off, he had the chance to get to know someone he hadn't lived in the pocket of for the past some odd months. 

For some reason Rín was horribly interested in things such as his age ("I'm fifty, thank you, and that's a perfectly respectable age for a hobbit!"), his lack of beard ("Hobbits don't tend toward bearded, unless they're of Stoor stock, which I'm not."), his company ("Yes, I suppose royalty is different from us common folk, but you wouldn't know it from how they act!"), and if said company knew his age ("I don't see how that is of any importance. It's not considered young for a hobbit, you know, but it isn't old, either. It's what we like to refer to as 'middle age'."). He (she, Bilbo was getting more and more sure of it) just kept asking and asking, and he wasn't sure, but he thought that he might get fed up soon enough. 

"How do you impress someone like that?" Rín asked after a time, sighing after Thorin as the king swept by on whatever current errand he was on. 

"Stab a warg in the face," Bilbo answered absently, grimacing as he pricked himself with a needle. "Now how is it, the thread is one color when I start but once I start using it it turns a darker shade?" Someone had let the spool sit in the sun, he would wager. 

"What?" Rín asked in a strangled tone. 

"Hmm? What was that dear?" He blinked at her. "I'm afraid I wasn't paying attention. What was the question again?" 

"How do you... impress someone... like that?" she asked again, stuttering slightly. 

"Ah, Thorin, right? The way I recall, he didn't respect me until I leapt between him and a warg..." Bilbo made a face. He really didn't like to think about that incident. Ignoring the others who were there just to listen to the answers to Rín's incessant questions, he looked back at his needlework. "Being small and delicate looking, it was understandably assumed that I could not hold my own should it become necessary. It became necessary, and I held my own. That is what it takes to impress the line of Durin." 

A large, leather wrapped hand landed on Bilbo's shoulder, and to his credit, he did not flinch. The fingers weren't recognizable until they kneaded gently into his shoulder. "Leapt from a burning tree, hanging off a dazzlingly high cliff, charged right back into the danger we were running from and protected our king where even the bravest of us failed," said Bofur, still kneading. "Saves us all from giant spiders, big as Men, who were trying to eat us later, and then, he walked where no dwarf had dared to tread in over a hundred years. Walked right on down yonder path," Bofur said, hat off and clutched to his chest, "and faced the dragon alone." 

Bilbo scoffed, smiling up at his friend. "Now, you make it sound like something it wasn't. I was _hired_ for that last bit, and the rest, well, just luck that I happened to be faster than the rest of you. And on the cliff, there was the little matter of you all nearly falling to your deaths! As for the spiders... luck." 

"And he's modest too," said Bofur, which elicited nervous laughter from those gathered. "No, we'd all be dead if it weren't for a hobbit. And, that bit he said about being paid? He ain't even keeping it. Puttin' his gold to a good cause, he says!" 

"It is a good cause," Bilbo muttered, then sighed and looked back up at Bofur. "I don't suppose there's something going on that I'm needed for?" 

"Oh, aye, right! That's why I'm here!" Bofur grinned, putting his hat back on. "Do good in Master Baggins' absence," he told Rín, and promptly dragged Bilbo away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OCs will mostly be there for a minute, gone again. 500+ dwarves with Dain. It was bound to happen.
> 
> If anything looks too messed up, don't hesitate to say so!


	45. A Vision and a Raven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haldir sees a little of what's in store for the future, Thranduil arrives (quietly), and Roäc weighs in with his own opinions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not so sure about this chapter, but... Important points. That's my excuse.

The ground squelched wetly beneath Haldir's shoes. All around him was a thick mist, thick enough that it hampered his breathing, and tiny lights in the fog. As much as he wished that he could turn around and head back to solid ground, he knew that what was behind him was worse than this fell bog. 

_"I'm so lonely,"_ whispered a voice in the mist. _"I'm so lonely... Come to me; help me..."_

Haldir knew better, he really did, but the voice was so sad, he turned toward it immediately. There was a light above the water, and the voice called him toward it. He stepped to the edge of the water and looked down. There was a face down there, the face of a man, pale and bloodless, moss growing from his hair. 

The voice grew louder as Haldir leaned forward, and as the first strand of his hair, fallen over his shoulder, touched the water the man's eyes opened and Haldir jerked awake. 

There were six dwarves and a hobbit, all staring at his sweaty face. Thorin, at his sides Fili and Kili, Dain, at his sides two dwarves Haldir didn't know, and Bilbo were all silent, and all around them, all Haldir could see was stone. He suddenly realized that he couldn't even remember why he was here. 

Stone, stone, stone; blocking away any light, blocking the flow of air... "I need to go outside," he said, standing abruptly. No one attempted to stop him as he left (what started as walking quickly became a run as the walls continued to surround him), though Thorin stared after him with barely disguised concern. 

Dain watched him go, shaking his beard disapprovingly. "Elves are funny creatures," he said, calling into question Thorin's wisdom in trusting one. There were snorts and headshakes and even a couple of smothered chuckles from other two dwarves. 

"Kili," said Thorin, motioning for the prince to stand, "go find out what that was all about. Then come back and explain. Haldir is no average elf; I can only imagine that something happened that we are unaware of." 

Also worried, Kili wasted no time following his uncle's orders. At first, Haldir's trail was easy to follow; dozens of dwarves were scratching their heads, still confused as to what had blown by them. Others were standing about looking shocked - once Haldir had given up on walking, he had leapt over more than a few dwarves. 

Once he left the main body of dwarves behind, it grew more difficult. Thankfully he already had an idea of where the elf was heading. He was going outside, and the quickest place to reach was the top of the gates. 

He wasn't disappointed when he got there. Haldir stood, leaning against the stone wall, hair stuck to his face and eyes open wide, staring across the southern plateau (possibly at the ruins of Dale). The elf's mouth hung a little slack, and his chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. 

"You've worried Uncle," said Kili, stepping closer. _And me,_ he added silently. "I could have sworn you were awake, then suddenly you were like you'd been awoken from a nightmare!" 

"A vision," Haldir murmured. "Of I know not where, and a light over the water, calling me close..." He brushed the hair away from his face. "Something dead in the water, and as foul as that place was, something fell behind me, that I could not go back whence I came." 

"A vision?" he asked, uncertain. 

"Elves have them, occasionally," Haldir replied dryly. "Not usually when we are waking, but, no, perhaps I should sleep before things begin to happen." 

A motion in to the west caught Kili's eye just then, and he squinted to see what it was. Haldir stepped away from the wall, and took Kili by the shoulder, pushing him back toward the archway he had come from. 

"Tell your uncle that Thranduil is here." 

* * *

The camp was in chaos, and although Roäc hadn't seen such in a very long time, even in his old bones he found it to be very exciting. "Our youth have flown far to the north," he croaked, unmindful of the elven king's presence, as he attempted to stand closer to one of the soft looking little people. That one wasn't as he looked, and any raven out of his first moot would know that. He was merely repeating what he had told Thorin several hours earlier, but ravens are a loquacious lot, so he didn't mind telling his story again (and again and again, as often as he could manage). "And a vast horde comes, though they have an easterly heading. The goblins number in the thousands, and there are many wargs and trolls that come with them. I think the elf has not brought enough." 

"Mind your tongue," growled the elven king, with no actual heat behind his words. 

"What I want to know," said Dain (one of the few dwarves other than the king and his that stood out to Roäc), "is how you convinced your forest to tag along!" 

"I second that!" piped the pleasant voice of the little person Roäc had been following. "I mean I knew..." 

"Pippin!" hissed one of the others (little person, and Roäc hadn't heard what they were called as a people), in a tone of both amusement and alarm. 

"Sorry," Pippin replied, grinning. "Just curious, is all." 

Thranduil (for that was the elven king's name; so it had been for all of Roäc's memory) scoffed. "They do not follow me. They follow the scent of blood." 

Pippin seemed crestfallen at that. "Huorns," he said to the other (not the really small one, this one was nearly as tall as Pippin). It was confirmation. Apparently they had already known about the trees. 

Roäc almost regretted reporting about it. Almost. "How quickly are they moving?" asked Thorin-king, gently nudging the old raven. 

"You have three more days, I believe," Roäc croaked, rustling his wings. "By then, their leading forces should arrive." 

Said Thorin-king to Thranduil, with a polite nod to Elrond, "We should join together and prepare."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or perhaps I'm a little braindead. O.O


	46. Trees and Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pippin decides to go see the Huorns, and a new ally makes himself known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could have sworn I said "not until tomorrow"... Well, you all know how it is.

"May I ask, why it is, when there is a horde of Orcs coming, that you want to go see the walking trees?" On request, Fili let his blades remain sheathed, but that didn't mean he liked it. 

Merry muttered something under his breath as Pippin ignored them, ploughing on ahead like he had a very specific mission in mind. Unlike Fili, Kili hung back, walking side by side with the elf (who had come along to make sure that they weren't going to get themselves killed) and looking more and more worried the closer they came to the new tree line (of old trees). 

The trees were massive old things, and Fili thought that he was right not to want to move into their shadow, but Pippin forged ahead, regardless. They hadn't but just pierced the outermost thicket when they saw _her_ , and even Haldir stopped, startled and dropping to one knee. "My lady," he said, and that was all. His head bowed before her, yet Fili saw that she seemed amused. 

"Rise," she said. And Haldir did, though he looked terribly confused. 

For a moment, Fili wondered when he had learned to read the faces of elves, but the thought perished when Merry and Pippin both started yammering out a friendly (too friendly, perhaps, in the face of a creature so regal) greeting... to Lady Galadriel. "But we had thought you had gone to Fangorn!" said Merry, brows puckered in thought. "Whyever have you come here?" 

"I was in Fangorn," she agreed, smiling a very small, regal smile. "And Fangorn chose to join me. Here." 

"Does that mean...?" Pippin patted Merry's shoulder excitedly, and they both looked around, and up, as though expecting to see something in the trees. "Treebeard!" Something moved. At first, Fili thought it was a tree, but then it reached out and picked Pippin up. The hobbit's excitement was undiminished by his new, precarious looking position. "Hello!" 

"What a charming little voice," said the big thing that Fili was beginning to suspect was one of Pippin's Ents. "You must be erheerrrrm, one of these hobbits that the Lady of the Galadhrim spoke to me of. Tell me, are you one of those that gave her the warning, which she then brought to my wood?" 

"Oh, aye," agreed Pippin. "And my kinsman," he added, pointing at Merry, who was then picked up by the Ent as well. Like Pippin, he appeared completely unbothered. 

The Ent then examined them closely. "Not Orcs," he said. "Any eye can see that. And such lovely little voices." The Ent's voice was deep and reverberant, but seemed pleasant just the same. "Not dwarves, though you seem of the right size, and certainly not elves or men." The Ent chuckled and shook his mossy looking beard. "Hobbits, then. Now that I have seen them, I shall remember them as such." With that, he gently placed the hobbits back on the ground. "Before battle is underway, I must meet my contemporaries. I sense we have little enough time yet." 

The Ent, along with Galadriel (whose shocking beauty had been completely driven from Fili's mind with the appearance of Treebeard), then headed out of the forest, to meet with kings of earth and stone. 

* * *

"It turned out well enough, didn't it?" asked Pippin, much later. 

"You have obscenely unnatural luck," Fili replied, rechecking the blade that he had given Pippin to replace the one the hobbit had lost to the dragon. "How do you do it? How is it that you're still alive?" 

"I might not have been, you know." The tone was soothing, and when he looked up, Pippin's usually mirthful green eyes were serious. "Merry and I, we shouldn't even be here. It's strange enough, considering what we've survived, without considering that we haven't even been born yet. My mother hasn't even been born yet! So all we really want to do, what we think we're here for, is to stop what happened in our time, because of that... that thing, and..." He stopped, glanced in the direction where Treebeard conversed in his ponderous way with Thranduil and Thorin, Galadriel and Dain, then he shook his head. "We can't get all bothered by this; there's things that have got to be done, if not by us, then by others. So we can't get all stressed, even when things don't happen the way they're supposed to." 

Fili suddenly realized, as happy as Pippin had been to see the Ent, that he was also upset by Treebeard's presence. "Who says that you can't be stressed?" he asked quietly, internally planning to give whoever had said such a thing the beating if their life. 

Of course, like all good plans, it died when faced with reality. In this case, the plan was destroyed as soon as Pippin opened his mouth, smiling glumly through his words. "No one but me." The hobbit was looking around again, a moment later. "You know, since we're alone right now..." He elbowed Fili in a manner that only a dwarf would find suggestive, and Fili began to laugh at the incongruousness of it. 

That didn't stop him from performing his own spot check and pulling Pippin close, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, maybe cute, and more avoiding the coming battle. Which I'm sure you'll all be hideously disappointed by. :D


	47. Orcs and Wargs and Trolls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haldir and Roäc speak. Battle commenses (as a series of snapshot moments).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously. You might be better just imagining it in your head instead of reading it. :D

When Haldir awoke the eve before the battle, it was to a golden eye staring into his. "I know what you dream," said Roäc, cocking his head. "Ravens are sensitive to the scent of death, and you carry within you a choice that will result in death no matter which way you turn. A very rare honor you have been given; all roads lead to _him_." 

"I am flattered, truly," Haldir replied wryly, brushing the old raven away from his face as he sat up. The bird leapt back, wings fluttering until it was upright again. 

"You should be," it said cryptically. "Such choices occur only once an age. It is a great honor. You'll see." 

"There are places I must be. I'll consider feeling honored later." 

Over the next few hours, dwarves and elves alike grew more tense, and last minute preparations were made. Haldir tested his bow string, his quiver, his sword. He also had a spear ready, should the enemy come within melee distance. 

It was likely that nothing would occur with the sun still in the sky, but as it sunk toward the horizon, a sense of calm enveloped the field. Whatever came next, they were ready. 

* * *

The first Orcs came from the east, just after sundown, and were shot down with elven arrows as soon as they reared their ugly heads. 

More came quickly after. Soon there was a veritable swarm of Orcs, covering the mountain's eastern spur. Then came the trolls, and the wargs. 

* * *

As the world descended into chaos, Pippin was ever so glad of the extended reach of his new blade. He had no idea of when the battle had come to him, but he planned on making every moment that he remained standing count. 

Sounds were lost among the din, but he could see the forest closing in on his position from the western spur. The Orcs were being herded his way. 

He gritted his teeth when a warg knocked him off of his feet. 

* * *

_Focus, focus, focus!_ One arrow, two, three. Two enemies down and a third with an arrow sticking out of his head, though still moving. Fire again, and the Orc is down. Nearby, a troll was riddled with arrows before finally falling, and when Kili looked, he saw Haldir firing arrow after arrow without pause. 

From somewhere nearby, he heard Merry's voice rise in an agonized shriek. "Pip! No no, Pip!" Casting his eyes from side to side, Kili saw what looked like it could be Pippin's honey colored curls disappear beneath the huge body of a warg. 

The sound of a horse's scream split the air, and Orcs tried to dodge the massive pale destrier that rammed into their ranks, and wargs fell snapping beneath its hooves. The horse screamed again, and ran further into the battle, heavy black chains rattling in the beast's wake. 

It took Kili about ten more seconds to realize that Haldir had stopped firing, and to shake himself out of the strange stupor he had fallen into. By the time he turned to check on Haldir, the elf had leapt into the fray, a spear in hand... 

Where was Haldir's sword? 

* * *

Bilbo, wisely enough, had thought to remain out of the battle. He was but a small hobbit (just shy of four feet tall, his cousins were more than half a foot taller than he), and had no place in a battle with such large creatures. 

Yet, when he heard Thorin's kingly bellow "To me! All my kinsfolk, to me!" all he could think was _You idiot!_ before he too joined the battle. 

It seemed like an age, but was probably only twenty minutes later, that a pain bloomed in the side of his head and he saw no more. 

* * *

Nori stood over the fallen form of one of his comrades. He hadn't even seen the blow that had brought Dwalin down, but he had arrived just in time to keep the other dwarf from losing his head. Even if they had nothing between them but animosity and an adventure, he wasn't about to let Dwalin die out here; not like this. 

Dwalin was a good dwarf, and Nori would do everything in his power to make sure he lived. 

* * *

Rín watched in amazed horror as the little hobbit (the one who had helped her before) literally climbed a troll to stab it in the neck. When the creature fell and she saw no sign of movement from where the hobbit had landed, she ran forward to protect the small body from attack. 

* * *

Pippin had two blades (having, in a stroke of bizarre luck, found his barrow blade fallen amongst the stones) and was menacing a very wary warg with them when he heard the cry go up. He didn't let his gaze drop once, but he wanted to shout for joy, so he did. 

His voice joined all the others crying, "The eagles are coming!" 

The warg just turned and fled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And if course it was short. :)


	48. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How fares the company afterwards?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Br'er Rabbit, nor Br'er Fox... Just another story I can see hobbits telling. :)

It would be inaccurate to say that any single creature on the battlefield that night hadn't been left with a confused impression of what, exactly, had happened. 

One thing that clearly happened, was that after seeing Ents and Huorns in action, there was not a single dwarf present who hadn't developed a suspiciously sudden respect for nature. The elves of Mirkwood would like to claim that they already had such respect for their woods (yet upon returning to their forest, many would be found to have changed some of their less than respectful habits). 

Even fewer than unchanged were the unscathed. Some got off lightly, relatively, while others were injured grievously enough that their survival was in question. The line of Durin, for better or worse, bore little worse than scratches and bruises. Kili had remained in his role as an archer throughout, and from his position had seen much of the battle (dwarven eyes, young ones at that, are perfectly good for a nighttime battle). Fili had disappeared for some time, only to be found, later, pulling Legolas out from beneath the corpse of a troll (the elf only suffered minor fractures in his ribs for all this). Thorin, for his part, made good with his unexpected charge into battle, piercing the enemy lines and shortly thereafter brandishing the head of the Orcs' commander. His armor, of good, solid dwarven make, saved him from the loss of a limb, but although his arm was saved from the piercing of a warg's teeth, it was still bruised; and the healers suspected him of covering up the worse possible injury of torn muscle. He bore the pain stoically, so it was difficult to tell. 

The worst injured of their original party was Dwalin, who, as it turned out, had been nearly devoured mid battle by a warg. His ribs were broken, and he bore sever lacerations all over his arms and backside. It was unanimously decided that he would be going nowhere, for quite some time. His brother had gotten off far more lightly; Balin suffered a mere broken arm, and it was a clean break, and not even his right, leading arm, at that. 

Bombur had also been lucky. Due almost entirely to his fat, all he had sustained from an encounter with a troll's club was bruising (though he had feigned dead for a time after said encounter), and Bifur... Disappointingly, no one could convince Bifur to still long enough to see if there was anything wrong with him beyond the usual. That duty would eventually fall to his cousins, and they would find hardly more than a collection of nasty, half-healed scrapes. Bofur had taken a sword to the side, at some point, and had been surprised to see the injury, claiming that he couldn't even feel it. Whether or not he could, he allowed it to be tended to with patience befitting of a saint. 

Dori had two breaks in his right leg, and, though he wasn't sure how it had happened, was now missing a good portion of his right hand (the two outermost fingers, and a chunk of his palm). Nori was less scathed than most, though he had a fair share of lacerations on his arms where blades had managed to bite through his armor. As for their youngest brother, his left arm was in a sling (and likely would be for some time yet), his elbow broken and his shoulder abused and tender, as it had been dislocated. 

Gloin and Oin's injuries seemed to reflect one another; where Gloin had broken his right wrist, Oin had broken his left arm; where Gloin's left thigh had taken an arrow, Oin's right hip had taken a sword. Neither of them would be up to much for quite some time. 

Bilbo had little more than a concussion, as one intrepid young dwarf had protected him where she had seen him fall. The other hobbits... Pippin was already running amuck, scrapes and bruises were hardly enough to keep him down, and Merry was... Well, Merry was currently a horse, though he seemed uninjured (and he was in poor temper, as well, not letting anyone come near him). 

Haldir also managed to come out of the battle unscathed, and after allowing Kili to scold him ("Where was your sword? Did you throw it?"), set about helping Lord Elrond, and the various healers that had lifted their heads as soon as the battle was over. After a time, he was shooed away as "useless" to the healers. 

As for the Ents, they paid respect to Lady Galadriel, and laid beside her for some time, discussing important matters with her. Beorn, who had come and joined the battle as it was half underway, also sat with them, as did Merry (still a horse) and Pippin, Legolas and Haldir (who sat next to Merry, allowing the formerly-a-hobbit to rest his currently massive head across his thighs), and Fili and Kili, and several other elves and dwarves who were more or less awed to sit in the presence of legends. 

Bilbo, still careful of his rather pained head, joined them as well, and before long, the hobbits were being asked to tell more hobbity stories (the last retelling of "The Last Unicorn" had been a surprisingly big hit among the dwarves). 

It was Beorn who specified what he wanted to hear; a "bunny" tale. Pippin had laughed, saying that Bilbo's stories had often reminded him of the tale of Br'er Rabbit and Br'er Fox. So that was the story Bilbo told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know. Some of them are hurt worse than others, but it would be expected.


	49. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More tales are told, and as the cleanup progresses, some come to a worrisome realization...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own none of the songs/stories told here.

Haldir dreamed again, the soothing backdrop of hobbit voices fading away into the cloying stillness of fog. Although he heard the voice calling again, this time he ignored it, trying to catch more of his surroundings, in hopes that he might recognize them. Thickets choked the more solid bits of earth, though they looked long dead, and here and there amongst them were remnants of an age long past; a spear here, forged in the Second Age, the battered hilt of a sword, just as old. This was once a great battlefield. The lights... 

He knew what those lights were, now. The souls of the dead, meant to trap the unwary, and so bring them to doom as well. 

The more he thought on it, the more he was certain that he knew this place. Whatever could drive him here, though? He turned back, toward the edge of the marsh and froze. Every instinct he had would not let him move in that direction. It was better to be eaten by the dead. 

A shrill scream echoed in the distance (or was it just the fog that made is sound so far away?) and he found that he could hear the hobbits' voices again, Bilbo singing a gay tune, while Merry huffed out a gentle accompaniment, all without lifting his head. Not hearing Pippin, he glanced over and saw the youngest hobbit, fingers splayed wide, playing panpipes. Somehow, he had missed the beginning of this. 

He raised an eyebrow at the phrase "straight into the ass you are", and heard the bemused chuckling of both dwarves and elves. Treebeard hummed along, possibly not even noticing the mild curse that had slipped from Bilbo's lips as he sang. 

Then Rín, a female dwarf that had been underfoot a lot before the battle, asked if they had a story, or a song, of an ill-fated romance. The song they sang in response, about a young warrior named Alexi, brought Haldir to the realization that a lot of hobbit stories seemed to involve people turning into animals, or animals turning into people... They followed the song with a tale about a swan maiden, that they called "Swan Lake", which led to a brief digression about why hobbits don't use the names Odile and Odette. 

The next story (and even energetic Pippin was growing hoarse by this point) was about a prince befriended by a wolf, whose father's golden apples were being stolen in the night... It was in the middle of this story that Merry suddenly seemed to relax, and returned to his proper form. He remained seated as he had been before, head resting on Haldir's thigh (and The elf wasn't about to push him off), eyes drooping with weariness. 

The sun was growing high in the sky by the time those gathered chose to wander off and find places to sleep, and Haldir was tempted for a moment to try and see again if the healers needed help. Sleep won out, however. When he was again awake, he and others would have plenty of work cut out for them. 

* * *

The following day was almost dreamlike for many, and they worked in a daze, piling the carcasses of their enemies onto pyres, and burying their own fallen. 

The next day was much the same, except that they had more people who were capable of working. So it was for days, and there was no sign of the grey wizard - a fact that had the company out of sorts. 

It was over a week later (a week of hard labor that pushed a body too far, too fast) that someone finally asked Galadriel if she knew what had happened to him (and though she was still present, possibly thinking of this as a working vacation of a sort, the Ents and Huorns had already returned whence they came. 

She hadn't. 

And though she did not say as much, it was clear that she also was worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to look the songs up on YouTube, but either I have the wrong title/artist in mind, or they just don't have them. :) I was going to put a link to them at the end of the chapter...
> 
> And wow, does this one look short. XD


	50. Time Runs Short

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are worries, and the beginnings of plans...

_We cannot wait long._ Merry didn't want to be the one to say it, but it needed to be said. The fact that Gandalf had yet to show worried him and Pippin more than they wanted to admit, but the fact that Galadriel was still there, waiting (along with Thranduil and Elrond, Legolas and some other elves that he knew not the names of) worried them even more... All they could think was that there was more reason than what they already knew of to do so. 

Quietly to each other, one night about two weeks since the battle, they tried to list the things that they knew could have impeded Gandalf. The first and most obvious was the Necromancer. The second after was nearly as obvious: Saruman, somehow catching on to the fact that his true nature had been twigged upon. That particular worry had them arguing into the night. Pippin didn't even want to consider it. "But Merry, you remember how Gandalf was able to force him to do as he said? He hasn't lost his powers yet, Merry, and Gandalf is the same Gandalf we knew as fauntlings... Sure, he's powerful in his own way, but he's no match, right now, for _him_!" 

"As dark as the possibility seems, we must entertain it," Merry replied with a sigh. "You haven't unpacked completely, have you? If you have, you better pack right back up, and I'll be telling Bilbo to do it too." 

"Of course, I haven't unpacked," Pippin muttered, offended. "You think that I have done this, this sudden traveling any less than you?" He leaned over his crossed legs, frowning petulantly. "I'm certainly not the same tween as left the Shire, Merry, even if I sometimes still act it. Perhaps you should talk to Haldir. I'll talk to Bilbo." 

"About what?" They both looked up to see the object of their discussion standing above them, two bowls in hand. "It isn't much," Bilbo said with a tired smile. "But there's no meat in it." 

Thanking Bilbo, they asked him to sit. "I do hope you've eaten," said Merry, with no preamble. 

He settled down easily, giving no indication either way. "And I am, understandably, I do believe, curious as to what you need to speak with me about." 

"If Gandalf doesn't show, and soon, we need to leave." Merry scowled, not actually looking at either of the other two hobbits as he spoke. "I'm afraid that his absence means something more ill than we should hope." 

"I suspected as much," replied Bilbo. "Is there anything we need that we didn't have for the most part, on the rest of the journey?" 

"Rope," said Pippin, impishly. "Lembas, and a lot of it, if we can get it. Horses rather than ponies; we should travel faster that way." 

"We shouldn't expect to see good folks of any sort on the journey," Merry continued. "The area between here and there is mostly untamed. Scattered woodlands and low, sloping hills, where it isn't completely barren. For the most part we can follow the Anduin, but we'll still need water skins." He hummed to himself for a moment. "Pip, are you sure you can handle a horse?" 

"If it isn't poor tempered," Pippin replied agreeably. "Bilbo can ride with one of us... Or with Haldir." 

"That's assuming that Haldir will come," said Merry with a concerned frown. "I hardly doubt he would leave us to it, not after coming so far along, but... He's not been looking well, lately." 

"He says he's fine," grumbled Pippin. 

"Because I am as well as can be expected," came Haldir's voice from above. They all looked up, and there he was, looking back down at them. "I've spoken with Galadriel. On one hand, I know what I dream of, now. On the other..." He sighed and in a smooth motion sat between Merry and Pippin. "You know of the Ringwraiths, I take it?" 

Neither Merry nor Pippin could disguise their sudden pallor. Merry bit his lip before speaking. "Lawks!" he exclaimed, in a small, breathless voice. "Aye, we know of the Ringwraiths, Haldir, as much as we would rather not." 

"Though it isn't proven, Galadriel has taken my dream to suggest that they walk again." He then flinched as Pippin let out a frustrated yell. 

"Aaaagh!" Pippin suddenly leaping to his feet. "Why now? They shouldn't be here now!" 

In contrast to Pippin's easily discernible frustration, Merry was quiet. "Is there any reason we cannot leave immediately? We're all as well as can be expected. The four of us were barely hurt at all, in the battle." 

"Gandalf!" Pippin replied, dropping back into his seat. His tone held a strangled quality, where he, with great effort, struggled not to yell again. "We need to know, at least, what happened to him. But we should make ready, anyway. I'm volunteering Merry to get the horses, as he knows them so intimately, now!" 

"Very funny," Merry said dryly. "We can't wait forever for Gandalf, Pip. I suspect we should give him a few more days, but that's all. If... If there really are Ringwraiths about, then... We may have already waited too long." It was the first time that he had considered that the quest to reclaim Erebor could have waited, but it was much too late to worry about that, now. 

"What else did Galadriel say about your dream?" asked Pippin, studying Haldir thoughtfully. 

"The raven was right," Haldir said. There was something defeated about his posture. "And there's no way to avoid it." 

Pippin patted him on the shoulder as Merry sat silent. "You think you know what it means, but that doesn't mean you're right." 

For the first time since the battle (that Merry had seen, anyway), Haldir smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little short again, but this part is starting to draw to a close...


	51. Finding Out (or, The Last to Know)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili needs to be better about keeping on too of things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's... short. Heh.

"They're up to something, I swear," said the dwarf with the waggling brows. "The little hobbit people are up to something." 

Fili raised his eyebrows but didn't yet speak. Neither dwarf in front of him had actually noticed his presence. The first one he recognized as Sigber (who seemed a little dim, but good-natured), and he recognized the second as soon as she spoke. "You think everyone is up to something," said Rín, with a put upon sigh. 

"That's because they are," Sigber replied. "But the hobbits are up to something. They're leaving. They never were gonna stay." 

"And where do you think they're going?" asked Fili, throwing an arm over the burly dwarf's shoulder. "Because, I'm not so sure they're not going, but if you know that, you can't be the only one who's noticed." He gripped the opposite shoulder, pulling Sigber close. 

The other dwarf tried to edge away, his eyes wide, but was stopped by Fili's grip. "Prince..." he coughed. "I have no idea where they're going. That's why I think they're up to something." 

He released the other dwarf, then pounded on his shoulder in a friendly manner. "Well, that's something at least." With a grin, and a nod at Rín, who was staring at him bemusedly, he wandered off. 

Sigber turned back to Rín. "And he's involved." 

* * *

Thorin barely glanced up at him when Fili told him what he had heard. "I know. I've already asked Haldir to make sure to include us in their plans." The king tested the edge of his blade with his thumb, keenly interested in the making of the blade. "Dain will be in charge while we're gone. Balin will be my voice in his ear. You and your brother had better start getting ready... Unless you would rather stay as regent?" Thorin finally looked at him, smiling cooly. "Well?" 

"Consider me ready," Fili said, mouth dry. He couldn't understand why he was surprised by this. "What did you tell Dain?" 

"Not that it's your business," Thorin replied, resheathing Orcrist, "but we have a debt to repay. It would be insulting to send anyone in our place, wouldn't it? Insulting to not just the line of Durin, but to our very kingdom." 

The smirk on Thorin's face was echoed by Fili. "I'll go get Kili." 

"If he wants to stay," Thorin began, and Fili paused, "you stay as well." Fili grimaced at his uncle, then turned to leave. He had his brother to find. 

* * *

Kili was all wide eyed innocence when he was approached. "Of course Haldir told me," he said, spreading his hands. "I mean, isn't that part of a successful relationship?" 

Fili's brain just about broke. "Am I the last one to know about this?" he asked stiffly. 

"Well, the rest of the company might not know. Uhm... Dwalin definitely doesn't know. He has other things to worry about." Kili nodded a few times, giving his brother a sage smile. 

"And what's this about you and Haldir?" Fili asked, suspicious that he sounded like a strangled cat, but not sure how much he cared. He had known about the weird flirting, but it sounded as though things may have gotten out of hand. 

"Merry too," Kili agreed, smile turning to a grin. He fluttered his eyelashes at Fili. "And you don't get to talk." 

Fili blinked. That completely derailed his brotherly protective instincts. "And Merry?" So it wasn't just teasing. "I wouldn't have thought..." He shook his head. "So, we should all get together, make sure we're all on the same page..." 

"Good idea!" Kili said brightly. "Let's go do that!" 

"Yes, let's." Fili sighed, shaking his head. "Then we'll help prepare."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearing the end (of part one)!! Are we excited? Yes we are!!!


	52. Soon to Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili confronts Pippin, and final preparations are made...

Pippin was surprised when a strong pair of arms (instantly recognizable) wrapped around him from behind. Fili wouldn't have been able to sneak up on him anywhere but a noisy place, and the market that had sprung up, just within the gate of Erebor, was perhaps the noisiest place in the mountain and its surrounding area. 

Even knowing it was Fili didn't stop his spine and limbs from stiffening while he waited to be released... which was apparently not happening any time soon, as Fili dragged him over to a quieter spot so he could be heard above the din. "Why didn't you tell me?" the dwarf growled into his ear. 

Pippin shivered at the tone, liking it better than he should, but answered flippantly, "Tell you what?" 

"We're coming too," was Fili's response. "No one told me, but Uncle and Kili, they knew..." He sounded aggrieved, and Pippin finally relaxed against him, rolling his eyes. 

"I don't know who told them," Pippin began, only to be silenced by one of Fili's large hands covering his mouth. He rolled his eyes again. 

"I think Uncle inferred. Kili was told by Haldir, he said." There was a huff of air into Pippin's hair as the prince sighed. 

The hand dropped away from Pippin's mouth, but he didn't speak for a long moment. "Merry and I weren't planing on saying anything. I don't know about Bilbo, but we didn't think it would be right..." He gasped as Fili's arms tightened. After a deep breath, he plunged on. "You have important things to do here, and we have to go quickly anyway, so..." Another deep breath, and "Fili, you've got to loosen up. I can barely breathe." 

Fili nearly dropped him, apologizing profusely. Pippin hadn't even been aware that his feet had left the ground... "Are you alright?" 

"It wasn't exactly a complaint," he shrugged, leaning back against the dwarf. "Don't worry about it. Merry used to do that to me all the time!" He craned his head around to look at the dwarf. "Can you ride a horse? I know you can manage a pony, but it is different." 

Fili's face went into an impressive set of contortions. "If I had to," he hedged. 

"If Haldir knows that you plan to come..." Pippin commented idly, "He'll make sure Merry gets enough horses." 

"Does it have to be horses?" Fili asked. 

"We intend to make haste..." _unlike the trek here..._ he added internally. 

* * *

They were to leave before the month was out, whether or not the wizard showed. Each of the hobbits found themselves gifted with items of various value by Dain's people - weapons, extra clothing, travel rations and golden trinkets that could be sold for goods should they come across any settlements on their journey. 

Haldir, specifically was gifted with a new sword and spear, which he had hefted in an amused fashion. His humor had changed to pleased astonishment when he found that the weapon was collapsible (and still as strong as the one he had lost during the battle). Between him, Kili and Merry (who was proving to be a natural with the bow) they were outfitted with a countless seeming amount of arrows, and extra bowstrings aside. Much to everyone's amusement, Pippin ended up with a wide array of small but deadly throwing knives; one of which he immediately pricked his finger upon, right after someone suggested adding poison to the blades. 

Bilbo had deftly avoided such gifts, saying that Sting was enough for him. It didn't keep certain dwarves (namely Rín, who had given up on the idea of chasing royalty, and thought to nab herself a hobbit's heart) who pressed gifts of gold and gems on him (which only increased on a daily basis, as everyone knew that he had saved their king's neck more than once). 

There was one point of contention on their provisions. The dwarves wanted to cover their provisions - that is, all of their provisions, and Thorin was more than a little off put by the shear quantity of elven waybread that the hobbits had managed to get a hold of. He gave in to the lembas only because Merry and Pippin refused to take any other kind of waybread or cram. It helped when he found that a single wafer was enough to fill a grown Man for a hard day's journey (though it didn't make him much happier). 

It was to be only a few more days that they would remain when the sled appeared. It was pulled by hares, and the man aboard it was initially believed to be Radagast... 

It wasn't Radagast. 

It was Gandalf, finally, but it was obvious to any eye, that the grey wizard had seen better days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are these getting shorter?
> 
> Anyway, I only expect another two or three chapters, and one of those will be an epilogue...
> 
> Is this technically a cliffhanger?


	53. Underway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gandalf tells his story, and it's time to leave...

As soon as he had been attended to, Gandalf had called for the hobbits, and the story he told struck Merry and Pippin's worst fears. Bilbo, not knowing what to fear, just sat in a tense, sweating silence as Gandalf (who hardly looked like himself at all, but dirty and sort of crazed, like his "cousin" Radagast) told them that his efforts were a failure - the Necromancer had left Dol Guldur, and straight to Mordor. Saruman had... 

Somehow, Saruman had recognized Gandalf's suspicions of him, and Saruman was still the superior wizard. He had ripped through Gandalf's mental shields like they were no more than butter, and learned everything that he needed to know. Not that it had come without cost - while Saruman had clearly already contacted Sauron over what he had learned, he wasn't going anywhere for some time. 

As unlikely as it might seem, Radagast was the one who had broken Gandalf out, though the eccentric wizard had said nothing of how he had found out about Gandalf's predicament, and had given him his sled to get to Erebor. 

"You cannot wait for me to be able to come along, but you must hurry. We will find some way to distract the Enemy, but your task is haste! What are you waiting for? Go!" 

And so they went. 

Elrond gave Haldir his horse, and they had a very quiet discussion off to the side as Merry convinced his horse to lay down while he tied baggage to its back. The horses were all quite polite to Merry, and it didn't take long for him to decide (other than the elven steed that Haldir was given) who would ride which horse. 

Thorin and Bilbo would ride the palomino, who was placid and strong, yet as built for speed as any of the others. Merry swore up and down that the horse told him that it liked to run, but not to worry, as it wouldn't drop that which it bore. Thorin was particularly skeptical about this, but he climbed into the high saddle anyway, and it was obvious once he was there that he would like to be anywhere else. Fili lifted Bilbo up and the hobbit determinedly scrambled to sit behind Thorin. He then proceeded to look as uncomfortable as any hobbit had ever looked, and he refused to look down at all. 

Merry put Pippin on a cherry brown mare who seemed a bit skeptical of the proceedings herself, but allowed the hobbit to lead her well enough. She even waited with irritated patience as Fili, looking rather worried, climbed up behind Pippin. 

The most antsy beast, a piebald that glowered at everyone but Merry, Merry chose for himself and Kili, who didn't seem to have his uncle and brother's same problems in getting into the saddle. For a dwarf, Kili was remarkably light on his feet, and though he couldn't vault into position like Haldir, he still got astride the piebald behind Merry far more gracefully than Thorin or Fili had gotten onto their own horses. 

Thorin had immediately set off on a slightly easterly heading, much to the rest of the small party's amusement. Bilbo had taken Thorin's right arm and given it a little tug until their horse was heading south with the rest of them. 

Although Merry assumed that Haldir probably knew the area better, he still found himself taking charge of their direction. He had spent plenty of time during the past month, studying the local maps, and even had some which he wrapped up and placed in his pack, as something light, and potentially useful. 

Useful things were going to be hard enough to come across in the following weeks, and winter was nearly begun. Any other season would have been preferable for the journey, but it seemed, some things didn't change. 

The only reason to set out during the winter was, after all, urgency. 

And if the destruction of the Ring wasn't urgent business, Merry was quite sure he didn't know what was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue is all that remains...
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me! Next thing you know, I'll be putting up the sequel... and the epilogue won't go up until I'm also ready to post the beginning of part deux.... But don't worry! It may be up sooner than you think!


	54. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened and will happen and to whom it happened or will happen... Haldir sees more than the marshes, and the first day of their new journey is concluded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it!

The gentle swaying of Lord Elrond's horse could nearly lull Haldir to sleep, if he wasn't careful. Or it could lull him into the arms of another vision, he noted, irritated when the mist seemed to rise around him. Unlike before, he could still hear the others, even as he saw a landscape far different than that that actually surrounded them. 

He could hear Pippin's laughter as he warned Fili not to do whatever the prince was doing this time ("I'll scream," he said, "or I'll fall from the horse, and if I fall, I'm taking you with me!"), and the gentle conversation between Bilbo and Thorin (Bilbo chiding Thorin over his insistence that south is "that way!" even though they were already heading south), and the chatter of Kili, occasionally interrupted by a bemused "uh huh" from Merry ("That was a thrush, right? That's what Gandalf said it was! I can too tell a thrush from a raven; Ori is the one who thought it was a raven!"). He didn't lose himself in what he was seeing anymore, and while he was grateful for that, he was getting sick and tired of seeing that damned swamp. 

_Anything else!_ he thought, giving an experimental nudge with his mind. _Why only show me this one thing, and a thousand variants?_

He pushed again, harder, and the sounds of his companions suddenly disappeared. 

* * *

Mithrandir stands facing Curunir. The grey wizard is pressed against the wall; the white holds him pinned with a gesture. "...tell you...nothing!" 

* * *

A small brown bird lands on the outstretched finger of a man entirely in brown, who has crusted treesap running down one side of his face. They whisper to one another and the bird takes flight. Determination sets on the man's weathered face. 

* * *

Mithrandir, hat in hand, stands at the gates of Moria. His other hand clenches on his staff, and he roughly places his hat back upon his head. The grey wizard walks through the open gate, never to be seen on Middle Earth again. 

* * *

Two hobbits Haldir has never seen make their weary way up a barren mountainside. The larger one carries the other, a hobbit so thin and frail that it hurts to look at him... But his eyes are so bright and blue, staring into the future... 

* * *

Merry and Pippin, a little younger, less travel worn, tussle with a large blond man, whose grin is so wide that its obvious how much he loves them. They all look up to see darkness bloom in the sky, and the moment of peace is gone. 

* * *

Galadriel walks in an ancient forest that hasn't seen the footsteps of an elf in millennia. She seeks the master of the land, and Haldir already knows this! He doesn't need to see her meet up with Treebeard; he already knows that she did. 

* * *

Two very young hobbits hide in a hedge, watching an empty space of air. In that place appears Bilbo Baggins; older, cannier, and with an edge he doesn't have now. A golden ring slips back into the pocket of his fine red waistcoat, still on its chain. 

* * *

Mithrandir fights something great and burning with black fire, and he holds his own. It was once one of the Maia, just as Mithrandir himself... and Sauron. It's impossible to tell who is winning. The fight goes on and on. Something breaks beneath their feet, and they fall into the darkness. 

* * *

Curunir stands wounded, blood dripping from his face, one hand over a plantír, which glows red beneath his hand. He's informing Sauron of what he had learned from Mithrandir. 

* * *

A Nazgul screams. A thousand Orcs rise. 

* * *

The fog is so thick, it's so stifling. 

_Anything else._

* * *

Something drives them into the marshes. A Nazgul screams. Now two. They were being herded all along. 

* * *

Somewhere, deep underground, Pippin drops small stones into an ancient well, bored. When the drums begin to boom, Mithrandir scolds him, and Pippin looks so young, so young that Haldir wonders how long ago this was, because Pippin has grown to be shrewd and isn't at all like this young, frightened hobbit... 

* * *

Pippin wakes up alone, in the middle of a great expanse of grass, with blood on his lips and a confusion in his eyes that doesn't sit well with Haldir. He drags himself to his feet somehow and Haldir suddenly recognizes what he's wearing - it's exactly the same as the clothing the hobbit had when they met, so he knows when this is... 

* * *

Merry and Pippin, each hardly ever more than a step behind the others, burst through the underbrush, calling "Frodo! Frodo! Can you hear us Frodo?" right into a gathering of Orcs. For too long they stand in shock, and the Orcs hadn't even seen then until they were in their midst. In a clumsy, unpracticed move, Merry pulls out his sword, and swiftly severs an Orc's thumb from its hand as he and Pippin try to retreat back the way they came... It's already too late. The blond man from before tries to protect them, but it's still too late. It was too late even before the first arrow pierced his chest. 

* * *

The man in brown helps Mithrandir to stand on the back of his strange sled, and the rabbits that pull it take turns thumping out their alarm against the loamy earth. He pulls Mithrandir into a one armed hug, placing his forehead against the grey wizard's. "If you ever need me, just remember..." 

* * *

Haldir could taste something sharp and sweet, and the tang of his own blood. Blearily he rolled his eyes open, and found himself staring into Pippin's worried green eyes. Right next to him was Merry, who looked just as worried, and behind them stood Bilbo, Thorin and Fili... Meaning that the hands holding his head up belonged to Kili. 

"What happened?" he asked, finding it hard to focus. 

"Your horse suddenly sat down," said Kili. 

Fili finished it. "And then you just keeled over." 

"We were worried." That was Merry. His lip was reddened from biting it, and even now that Haldir was awake, he continued to do so. "And your nose is bleeding." 

"I'm aware," he said quietly. "It won't happen again," Haldir continued, his tone still as soft as he could manage. "I think I did that to myself." 

"It's already late enough," Pippin muttered, glancing up at the sky with a frown. "Why don't we call it a day?" 

Haldir could have protested, knowing that they were only stopping for him, but didn't bother. After all, he was quite sure that what he said was true: It wasn't going to happen again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions? Comments? I always answer, so have at!

**Author's Note:**

> What else gets posted depends on response. :) not all future pairings and the like are decided yet. If you have a preference on one that I haven't already decided on... I might be willing to accommodate.
> 
> As this work is now marked as part of a series, if there's any backstory that you would like to see filled in, or things that you would like to see, but I haven't, or cannot, work into the main story, prompt me. I can't guarantee that I'll write it, but as both story and inspiration allow, I will try. :)


End file.
